


Lost in a Sea of Stars

by Creme13rulee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Cook Katsuki Yuuri, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Falling In Love, Hiroko is a good mom, M/M, Minor Character Death, Prince Victor Nikiforov, Strangers to Lovers, later angst, later hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2020-10-18 12:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20638886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creme13rulee/pseuds/Creme13rulee
Summary: Royalty AU. When Phichit, the royal tailor’s apprentice finished an order for nobility, he knows it's the perfect size and chance for Yuuri  to attend the Royal Masquerade. Yuuri has the night of his life, but resigns himself to his ordinary life as the royal cook’s son. Neither Phichit not Yuuri expect the late-night visit from a heart-sick prince.Chubby Yuuri Week Day 7 (September 14) – Off-season/Retirement / FREE DAY





	1. Chapter 1

“I have to help finish the cream puffs for the ball, Phichit--” Yuuri whined, nearly tripping over his feet as his best friend and fellow royal servant pulled him down the carpeted hallway to his workroom.

“I have that handled!” Phichit smiled, pulling his friend in the room and slamming the door shut behind them, turning the silver filigree lock securely into its latch.

“Phi--!”

Phichit reached out and cupped his bestie’s soft, round cheeks in his hands. “Babe. Shhhh. Listen.”

“Whatever you’re planning, I want no part of it,” Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut as Phichit leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose.

“It’s too bad, I got your mom and Mari to give you the night off too…” Phichit sighed dramatically, resting the back of his hand against his forehead.

“Wha-- you what?” Yuuri’s eyes widened considerably as Phichit brushed off a spray bit of flour still resting on Yuuri’s blue overcoat.

“It gets better-- look!” Phichit gestured at a cloth mannequin with a grand flourish, wriggling his fingers at the royal blue velvet jacket, the sheer black lace collar and the glittering fleur-de-lis design hand-sewn onto the waist pocket and back placket. 

“Wow, great job Phichit,” Yuuri breathed, reaching out to touch the cuff of the jacket reverently.

“Oh, please, Celestino drafted the pattern. But  _ I _ took the measurements!” Phichit clapped, wheeling a second mannequin closer-- this one bright red and gold. “This one fits me.. But that one is yours.”

“No way-- that fabric must have cost a months wages--” Yuuri shook, snatching his hand back from the mannequin.

“Okay-- we’re borrowing it. Tonight. For the masquerade. Celestino is out visiting family, and no one else has seen it-- and I finished it a week before the due date.” Phichit rocked back and forth on his feet, offering Yuuri his most convincing and loving smile.

“I can’t believe you, Phichit…” Yuuri breathed, before reaching out and stroking the silver braid that was stitched onto the cuffs and front of the jacket. 

“As long as we bow out before the masks are off, nothing literally can go wrong. It’ll be too loud for anyone to recognize our voices, too busy for anyone to notice where we’ve gone…”

“What did you really tell my family?” Yuuri frowned.

“I said I’m bringing you out on the town to find you a partner. It’s mostly true.” Phichit grinned. Yuuri groaned.

“We don’t have much time. “ Phichit clapped his hands, turning to grab a pair of black silk stockings.

“Here. Under the pants, then tuck in the shirt, and jacket last. I’ll go find you a pair of shoes.”

Yuuri took the rolled pair of socks, frowning. His own trousers-- crimson red, like his top and the rest of the kitchen staff-- often stayed rolled above his ankles. His hands shook as he shucked off his work uniform and pulled on the rich clothing Phichit spent his days working on. He was right-- the trousers ended below his knees, and the waistband fastened comfortably around his stomach, softened by bread and a love for tasting sweets before they went to the dining hall.

Phichit changed much more quickly, as he spent most of his days dressing and undressing mannequins and people. He helped Yuuri into his jacket, buttoning the collar and fastening the jeweled brooch at his neck. 

“Here.. there’s some kid leather slippers. Easier than heels.” Phichit tossed them at Yuuri. “I got masks out in the city. They aren’t as expensive, but without our faces, we’re gonna have to sell our bodies anyway.”

“Thanks, Phich.. But… I can’t.” Yuuri stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror that celestino kept at the far wall of the room.

“It’s too late now, Yuuri. I know you don’t like my shenanigans, but it’s too late!”

“Phichit! I can’t see without my glasses!” Yuuri gulped. “I’m supposed to be in a ballroom dance with the entire court, AND the prince, without my glasses?”

“Oh, please. Just walk slower and keep a glass of champagne in your hand. People will just think you’re drunk.”

Fighting was pointless. Yuuri had grown up with Phichit, and this kind of plot was not exactly new. Entering a court event as a guest was certainly new, yes. But Phichit was an expert in getting-yuuri-to-do-things. Yuuri resigned himself to it, letting Phichit rogue his cheeks and pull his hair back off his face with a sweet-smelling wax.

“Amazing, Yuuri. Turn around and look at that fine ass.” Phichit spun Yuuri in front of the mirror, talking over him before he could start any negative self-talk spirals. “Prince Viktor will fall in love from across the room.”

“Please,” Yuuri scoffed. “We’ve lived in the same castle for twenty three years, tonight’s not going to be any different.”

“Don’t insult my work like that, Yuuri. Shame the customer is a greasy blonde guy. No good butt measurement will make up for that dude’s skin care routine. You are the best thing that will ever happen to this garment.” 

“Phich, you’re being mean,” Yuuri sighed. “Can we go and get this over with?”

~

He was beautiful.

His body made music, the fleur-de-lis patterned gems on his chest and waist glittering under the lights as he danced with a man in red. 

Viktor had a role call list-- a set of names he had to greet and dance with before he could ‘be free with the guests’.

Tonight, Viktor would have another fit of memory-- this one more fortitutous than others.

That being said-- being crown prince of your country makes movement through a crowd slow going. By the time Viktor crossed the dance floor, the couple had broken up and the dancer in blue was nursing an hors d'oeuvre plate and a glass of champagne.

“Is the food to your satisfaction, good sir?” Viktor swept in, perfect smile in place. Luckily the wall behind the table had a perfectly reflective iron print where Viktor had checked his hair and teeth.

The man startled, his back straightening instantly. “Oh--- uh, yeah-- I mean-yes!”

“We have the best cooks in the country--” Words died on the tip of his tongue at the man’s laughter-- light and soft, like biting into the perfect croissant. His heart fluttered as Viktor was graced by this stranger’s warm smile.

No one ever laughed genuinely with Viktor.

The last time they had, he had been a child, playing with other nobility-- before it was trained out of them. He of course, had people laugh at his jokes at the appropriate times. But never this awkward, human filler. 

When was the last time he had a real conversation with someone?

“You’re very sweet,” the stranger smiled, setting down his plate, his fingers curling around his champagne glass.

Viktor felt himself blush behind the golden mask. “I have to admit, I was entranced by your dancing, and felt the need to immediately request your company on the dance floor.”

The stranger’s lips parted beautifully. 

“May I?” Viktor asked, holding out his hand to the vision in blue. He took his hand, pausing at the massive scar on the back of his right hand-- like a start burst and wrote itself on his skin.

“Ah-- sorry--” The man withdrew his hand and worried his bottom lip.

“What happened?”

“N-nothing… I was a little kid….” He stuttered, before falling completely quiet when Viktor lifted his hand to his lips.

“I apologize for my forwardness and foolishness in my inquiry…” He murmured, kissing the soft knuckles of his weirdly charming guest.

“It’s okay, really--”

The orchestra swung up into the start of another song.

“Would you do me the favor of dancing with me?” Viktor asked again-- it was rude, selfish-- but Viktor’s heart was running a mile a minute and his brain was back at the start line.

The man only nodded-- but that was all he needed. He spoke with his body more than his words-- and it was a novel Viktor wanted to study. One dance turned into two, into four and Viktor forget every other obligation he had for the night.

“Let’s take a break.” Viktor panted, tugging the dancer out of the main hall. He followed until they pushed outside into Viktor’s favorite garden. Roses bloomed all around them, turned dark blue and black in the twilight.

“I’ve never enjoyed myself as much as I have with you, tonight.” Viktor breathed, entranced by the man’s profile against a background of flowers and thorns. 

“Me too…” The man whispered. 

“Come, sit.” Viktor gestured toward the bench, fashioned out of carefully trained vines and branches. Cultivated and killed until it became a comfortable but flowering perch.

“I’d like to see you again, after tonight.” Viktor felt light, with this man’s thigh against his,Viktor’s hand resting comfortably on the man's knee.

He smiled, although it was strained and it didn’t meet his eyes.

“You will, but it won’t be the way you want it to be,” He said quietly, his liquid brown eyes trained on the ground several meters away.

“I’ll take anything I can get,” Viktor lifted the man’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles tenderly.

“I can’t promise anything, Your High---”

“Viktor. Just call me Viktor.” the prince tried to offer a comforting smile-- while still taking the time to drink in the beauty of the man, drenched in blue light and nervousness. “I don’t believe I got your name?”

His fingers curled in Viktor’s hands, the mans cheeks burning red and his teeth worrying his lip enough that Viktor was scared he would draw blood.

“I can’t tell you. I’m not supposed to be here.” He said, his voice quick and low. Viktor felt like he should be mad, but his heart could only twist in empathy at the tears that filled his eyes.

“Well...unlike my mother, I don’t mind that you broke a law…” Viktor smiled crookedly, running his thumb against the back of the man’s hand. “May I call you… my star?”

The man sniffled, his wide eyes lifting to Viktor’s in plain shock, slowly nodding his head. His hair had started to fall out of its style and into his eyes over the mask.

“I really don’t know what to do when people cry…” Viktor worried his own bottom lip-- sometime Yuuri watched intently, vowing to catalogue it in his head for later recall. “I suppose I just want to kiss you until you feel better,” Viktor laughed at himself.

“Okay,” Viktor’s Star breathed, sniffling wetly-- the tip of his nose adorably red.

“May I?” Viktor brightened, squeezing his Star’s hand. He nodded again, closing his eyes and taking a shaky breath. Viktor closed his eyes as well and leaned forward slowly, being careful. He had only seen his mother kissing the late king, his experience with romance purely through observing. Somehow his experience didn’t seem to matter-- he felt safe, and it felt  _ right.  _ Light, nervous kisses turned hungry, both of their hands wandering as they kissed, all teeth and lips and passion.

Viktor only pulled back when the clock tower chimed midnight. 

“Oh. It’s time to take our masks off--” Viktor didn’t notice the man’s mask-- only his flushed, full lips and his hand resting on the small of his back. 

“I can’t--” his Star straightened, eyes wide with terror. Suddenly, his hand was gone and Viktor was alone on the bench.

“You won’t get in trouble, I promise--” Viktor said, his body suddenly feeling cold without another’s touch.

“I’m sorry-- I’m so sorry-- I have to go,” The Star hid his face, speaking too quickly and stumbling backwards as he tried to scramble away.

Viktor was, once again, alone.

~~~

Hiroko pressed her palm into the sweet dough-- it was late at night, but she was on a mission. Contrary to her wishes, her son had returned from his night away morose-- his hair dripping wet and his eyes red and puffy.

He refused to speak about his night with Phichit, even with several days between him and that night. He did his work in the kitchens diligently, but he lived as if he was a balloon missing half of its air.

So, Hiroko worked late, doing the only thing she knew. A way to a man’s heart was his stomach, and nothing would work better than Yuuri’s favorite sweet.

She paused only when the door to the dining hall opened.

“Oh--- Hiroko-- I thought you were off for the night,” the prince mumbled. He looked worse than Yuuri--- dark circles under his eyes, wrinkled nightclothes and bare feet.

“And what were you planning, Your Highness? A midnight snack?” Hiroko smiled, wiping the mochi flour on her purple apron.

“I can’t sleep.” The prince’s voice had a quality Hiroko knew quite well after raising her two children. He had been crying.

“Sit. I know just what you need.” Hiroko pulled out the chair at the head of the servant’s table-- her son was still working in the main kitchen, washing the dishes from the night’s service. He had always been a night owl, preferring to do his work when the kitchen had been cleared of most of the staff.

Hiroko hummed as she pulled out a sauce pan, spooning out cocoa and sugar before cooking a roux with vanilla elixir she was sure cost more than the uniform servants wore. She poured milk and cream into the pan, stirring until it started to steam. She carefully poured it into two mugs, topping it with some stiff cream before setting it on a tray and slipping a spoon into each mug.

“Yuuri,” Hiroko paused, catching her son staring blankly into the rinsing sink, a doppelganger for the prince outside. “Take this out to the table for me? Someone has a broken heart, poor thing.”

“ _ Hai,” _ Yuuri muttered in their native language-- the one they had spoken before the country they now lived in invaded and claimed it for their own.

Yuuri picked up the tray, pushing the door to the staff kitchen open with his back. He paused, drinking in the scent of cinnamon  _ yatsuhashi  _ his mother had started in the kitchen. His heart calmed a bit, the steam from the hot chocolate soothing his skin and eyes.

Whoever was at the table had their face buried in their hands, and looked like a wrinkled mess. Yuuri set the tray in front of them, leaning over to look for signs of breathing. Their hair was the color of starlight-- something not entirely rare in this kingdom… but this person’s hair looked incredibly soft and silver.

Foolishly, Yuuri found himself running his finger through some of the person’s hair. They finally moved.

“Oh--ah, sorry. I brought your drink--” Yuuri stuttered, his face instantly hot. Words died in his mouth when the prince turned his face toward him.

He looked terrible-- no wonder he hadn’t been in public view since the dance. Yuuri had avoided delivering any meals to the prince’s chambers, begging favors of his sister and Minami. He had expected Viktor to be mad-- not sad and sleepless.

“Do you need help bringing it to your room?” Yuuri babbled. “My mother didn’t tell me who it was for, I don’t want to waste your time or have it go---”

“I don’t have anyone to share it with, no.” Prince Viktor said flatly. “Company would be nice, though.”

Yuuri turned to look at the kitchen door.

“No obligation,” Viktor added, his voice so blank and helpless… Yuuri sunk lower with guilt. His knees shook as he pulled out the chair Minami usually sat in, kitty-corner to the prince. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, smoothing his hair down self-consciously. His red trousers and top probably still smelled like salmon and grease. 

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri left the hot chocolate on the tray, letting the prince pull it off the wood and lace himself.

“I’m in love with a specter ,” Viktor stared into the whipped cream of the mug-- his eyes even bluer with the red around them.

“Oh.. Sorry they died.” Yuuri blinked, picking at the cuff of his blue jacket. 

“They didn’t… well, I don’t know. I have no idea where they are…”

Yuuri’s mouth soured-- of course their dance together-- their kissing-- and the taste of him that Yuuri couldn’t forget-- of course it was only a tryst. Viktor was ruined by the adultery he had committed, unable to sleep after his betrayal.

“I won’t bore you with the details… I came here to try to sleep, after all.” Viktor murmured, drinking from the mug. His eyes widened when the sweetness hit his tongue. He held it in his mouth, reluctantly swallowing even though he knew there was more. He was the prince, after all. He could have anything he wanted. Except for the one thing he truly wanted.

“Oh, that makes sense.” Yuuri blurted.

“Pardon?” Viktor looked up. It was nice, not having the constant formal references and speech. Hiroko had not been a special case-- a favorite of the queen and king both, she mothered everyone freely. No one else was brave or stupid enough to be so casual with royalty.

Except this man.

“My mom always made cocoa when me or my sister couldn’t sleep,” Yuuri flushed.

“Oh. You’re Hiroko’s son.” Viktor blinked. He knew she had a family--he had almost felt like he was a part of it when he wandered to the kitchens for some comfort. But amongst the nobility and foreign courts, hundreds of names and faces Viktor knew-- Yuuri Katsuki wasn’t one of them.

Yuuri nodded, smiling softly as he looked into his own mug. Something about it was aching familiar. Viktor settled on how similarly Yuuri resembled his mother.

“Thank you,” Viktor said after he finished his cocoa. With Hiroko, he would sit for long after-- but tonight, for some reason, it wasn’t Hiroko.

“N-no problem.” Yuuri stuttered, finally reaching out to take the mug from Viktor’s place.

Viktor’s dull, lifeless eyes widened, and in a flash, he grabbed Yuuri’s hand.

“I-I’m sorry!” Yuuri squeaked, snatching his hand from the prince’s grip. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if I could have--”

“Star,” Viktor’s voice shook. Yuuri opened his eyes, shaking as he lifted his eyes to the prince. He had violated so many customs and procedures--- but Viktor was crying, not angry.

“Your hand,” Viktor reached out. Yuuri automatically returned the gesture, their fingertips brushing. Viktor pulled him closer, cupping Yuuri’s hand in both of his. He traced the burn scar on the back of Yuuri’s hand reverently. “It’s you.”

“I’m sorry-- please forgive me. My mom had no idea--” Yuuri’s lungs burned with panic as he babbled. His legs were weak and he moved easily when the prince pulled him into a rib-crushing hug.

“What a fool I’ve been-- I thought I lost you, and here you are, living in the same building,” Viktor felt Yuuri’s weight heavy in his arms despite how stiff he was.

“You’re...not mad?” Yuuri breathed after a long, awkward moment.

“Never. I’ve found my star-- I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night!” Viktor’s lips hurt with a smile that hadn’t graced them in days. “May I kiss you?”

Yuuri leaned back, worrying his bottom lip. “But… I’m your servant.”

Viktor wilted, though he still looked hopeful. “I only want to if you enjoy it was much as I do. I’m asking as Viktor… not the prince.”

He prepared himself for disappointment, closing his eyes until he felt the soft touch, and he could taste the sweetness of chocolate and something more familiar-- the taste he had committed to memory, sitting alone in the rose garden. The taste of Yuuri’s lips.

Yuuri pulled back, his hands resting on the prince’s shoulders. “We have to leave,” He breathed, his cheeks and lips flushed. Viktor found him even more delicious now, up close and real.

Yuuuri’s hands were soft as he pulled Viktor toward the outer door. It echoed their first night, the only light from the stars and moon as they stood outside. This second of the ground was primarily grass and trees, a few maple trees brought from the country Hiroko had called home once upon a time.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks-- I already adore you--” Viktor cupped Yuuri’s face in his hands. Yuuri laughed-- the same, musical one from that night.

“I do-- my mom was going to come in any minute,” Yuuri finally felt light, something like the person he had been wrapped in velvet and a mask.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way--” Viktor watched the stars reflected in the lenses covering Yuuri’s eyes.

“I have-- I do.” Yuuri shuffled, embarrassed. “Since I was twelve-- I mean--” He clapped his hands over his mouth, his entire face flushing red.

“Perhaps we’re both better with kissing?” Viktor offered, unsure and nervous. Something Yuuri had never seen, the prince poised and perfect since birth.

“Okay..” Yuuri whispered through his hands. 

Whatever tomorrow held would have to wait. 


	2. a bitter taste

Viktor’s kiss was careful, light and slow. Yuuri’s fingers curled into his palms at his side, before he dared to press his palms into the prince’s waist. His cheeks burned at the soft sigh from Viktor’s lips.

“Is this okay?” Viktor paused. Yuuri’s eyes fluttered open, his cheeks a delicious pink.

“Oh, yeah… Yes. Definitely,” Yuuri grimaced at his own awkwardness. But Viktor was only charmed by it, tilting his head to kiss him again. Viktor rain his fingers through his Star’s feathery soft hair, resting a hand on his back when he sensed the cook’s son beginning to tremble.

“Sorry-- I-- I’ve never done this before,” Yuuri mumbled when Viktor paused, his forehead resting against Yuuri’s.

“Oh-- Neither have I.” Viktor felt his own face warm. He had felt decently adept at it, even though he was mentally thumbing through his favorite parts of the many romance novels he had grown up reading. Yuuri was trembling again, even though his eyes were bright and somewhat hopeful.

“Oh, drat.” Viktor slid his hands off of his new-found star-crossed.. Lover? Friend? Servant? And pulled his arms out of the sleeve of his evening robe The flannel robe was thick, and really necessary considering his wool nightgown compared to the starched cotton uniform Yuuri was stuck in. He wrapped the rope around Yuuri’s shoulders. “You should tell me when you’re cold. Come, let’s go inside.”

Yuuri, stunned, stumbled after Viktor, pulled by the wrist. He followed Viktor back through the kitchens and down the dark halls. The guards- posted every few hundred feet-- watched, but looked more like statues than people. 

“Milosh, stoke the fire will you?” Viktor spoke to one in particular, waiting while the tall oak door was opened for them. Yuuri froze at the threshold to the royal chambers. A large four-post bed took up one corner, with the fireplace opposite of it. A large fluffy lump laid in front of the hearth, it’s tail beating faster the closer they came.

“Wh-what?” Yuuri stuttered as Viktor pulled an ornate carved oak chair in front of the fire and gently guided Yuuri into it. Yuuri’s eyes darted from the fire and Milosh to Viktor and back again.

“You were shivering,” Viktor chirped, tucking a down comforter and quilt around Yuuri. “Milosh, order tea, please?”

“No! No it’s okay!” Yuuri yelped, tearing his hands from the pile of blankets to wave them at Milosh. “It’s fine. I’m not cold.”

“Oh…” Viktor wilted, his face perfectly poised but the brightness in his eyes dimmed a little. 

“I just… I don’t want anyone from the kitchens to see me here…” Yuuri murmured, his voice softening with guilt. 

“I apologize, I assumed...I should have asked,” Viktor’s voice was prim and proper- that of a prince, not just Viktor.

“No… I am sorry. If anyone sees you with me…” Yuuri’s hands twisted in his lap.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks of me, especially if they judge me for spending time with you.” Viktor bit back. He was learning a lot about Yuuri in such a short time-- including the fact that he seemed to have very little self esteem.

“Why should I get time with the prince? What did I do? Only break every rule, party when I should have been working and helping with the cream puffs.” Yuuri babbled, his muscles tensing, his shoulders hunching upward.

“You’re not in trouble, Yuuri. Quite the opposite, really.” Viktor knelt in front of Yuuri, between him and the hearth, resting his hand on top of Yuuri’s twisted ones. 

“I’m just a kitchen staff.” Yuuri looked up at Viktor, his face pale and his teeth worrying his bottom lip. “There’s got to be a catch. I can’t be this lucky. It won’t be this easy.”

“It can be easy. We could always get a new cook---”

“No!” Yuuri gasped, his hands flying to his face. “Please, don’t fire my mom. Or my dad.. Or my sister. We don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Hasetsu? Not that they would… I mean, if we did that, then you’d be king-consort.”

“Hasetsu was burned during the war, Viktor.” Yuuri whispered. “That’s why my parents got here.”

It was Viktor’s turn to bite his lip-- his back too warm, too close to the brighter fire. “I know you’re from Hasetsu, star…But I don’t know why your family is here.” His face brightened a bit. “Are they former nobility?”

Yuuri tilted his head to the side, watching Viktor curiously. “No. “ He watched his face carefully, waiting to see if it fell. “They worked for the emperor…”

“Emperor?” Viktor blinked-- Hasetsu had been under Ruthenian rule for most of his life. Viktor had met every royal within a month’s sailing, and an emperor had never been one of them.

“My family have been servants for their whole lives. I’m a servant, too.” Yuuri fidgeted underneath the blanket, crossing his ankles and uncrossing them.

Viktor waited, squeezing Yuuri’s hand gently.

“I don’t have a secret background… or royal blood. I’m just me.” 

“Then please let me know all of you.” Viktor’s eyes sparkled as the grandfather clock in his room chimed two in the morning.

“Uh, okay,” Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s hand back a little. “Get into bed,”

“Wow, Yuuri, how forward!”

“No! Oh my god, no-- I don’t mean--- It’s late!” Yuuri turned red, hiding his face behind his hands.

“I’m too excited to sleep.” Viktor was used to being petulant. 

“I’ll read to you, but you need to be in bed-- not melting on your bedroom floor.” Yuuri was showing himself to be stubborn. Viktor rose to his feet, easily charmed, picking up a leather bound book off his bedside table. Yuuri sat on top of the sheets, his brow furrowing as he thumbed through the pages, reading carefully and slowly enunciating each word.

Viktor wasn’t really listening-- he was listening to the sounds spilling from Yuuri’s lips, watching how he held the book and himself. Viktor closed his eyes after a chapter, willing to commit the warm feeling to memory.

Instead, he burned with the soft touch of scarred hands tucking blankets around him, and the soft whisper of a kiss to his forehead. Viktor’s skin sung with it as Yuuri tiptoed out of the room. He didn’t want to be alone, but Yuuri had still left him with a blessing nonetheless.

~

Viktor spent every free period he had with a voracious appetite-- sneaking into the kitchens for a snack or two. He ate sparingly at meals, just for the opportunity to dip into the kitchens, even if it was just to see Yuuri elbows- deep in a batch of dough or dicing several dozen bunches of lettuce. Viktor never crossed the threshold into the main kitchen, making his personal guards stay back after the disaster of a first visit. He still noticed the kitchen staff straightening their spines when he arrived, their eyes downcast and whispers dissolving into silence. But none of it mattered when he caught Yuuri’s eye, or when they shared a private smile over the lid of a pot.

He had the routine perfected after two weeks-- two weeks that had been delightful tastes of Yuuri between their nightly bedtime stories. They had been perfect-- until the day Viktor was denied entrance to the kitchens.

“It’s my country, my home and my kitchens, Emil.” Viktor immediately soured at the guard.

“It’s not safe, your highness.” Emil looked pale. “Someone has taken ill.”

Viktor stiffened. “Who? Why? Why don’t I know of this?”

“Go to your quarters, Prince Viktor.” Lilia barked. Viktor nearly jumped out of his skin, but he stood his ground.

“I do as I please, Madame Lil--”

“Not when there is a threat to the Crown. Go.” Lilia stared him down, and Viktor was ready to take a step when the kitchen doors opened. The royal doctor shuffled backwards, one of three people supporting a body that was awfully familiar.

“What are you doing? What happened?” Emil held Viktor back by the shoulders-- struggling to do so as Viktor lurched forward, trying to get a better look at Yuuri. He hung limply in the doctor and guard’s arms, his skin pale and chin wet as if he were foaming at the mouth.

“Viktor. Get a hold of yourself!” Lilia stepped in front of him. “You are in public. Behave like it.”

“Tell me what is going on!” Viktor growled, his heart beating a mile a minute.

“Nothing. It just turned out that a gift sent to the castle was tested and turned out to be tainted.” Lilia motioned to Emil to let go of Viktor.

“Tested? Do you mean it was used on our staff?”

“Each staff takes a turn testing gifts from outside sources. It wasn’t obvious there was poison until one fell into a fit.”

Blood roared through his veins.

Yuuri. Yuuri was hurt. Hurt in the name of protecting the crown. He walked methodically down the hall, turning a corner before he broke into a run. He arrived at the medical quarter just as they stripped Yuuri of his shirt, the doctor’s apprentice grinding a bowl of charcoal in a marble mortar and pestle as Yuuri seized and shook on top of the white sheets of a bed. Yuuri went limp after the grip of the fit lessened. Viktor felt his stomach live somewhere in the sixth layer of hell.

“Let me.” Viktor took the charcoal paste from the apprentice, tipping it against Yuuri’s lips. He sputtered and coughed, his teeth grinding before relaxing.

“Star, I’m here. Shhh.” Viktor waited out another ‘fit’, massaging open his jaw to pour more of the mixture between his teeth. He waited until the poison’s effect faded and Yuuri slowly relaxed, Viktor’s hand pressed to the side of his neck to track the beating of his heart. He woke up at the prick of needle at his arm, the doctor collecting blood to check for any further miasmas. His eyelids heavy and barely open, his eyes found Viktor and stayed there.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri croaked, his teeth and tongue stained black as if he had takena drink from an ink bottle.

“What for?” Viktor felt his own voice crack.

“You’re crying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting! I forgot how wierd Ao3 codes things, but don't worry! I have a few chapter ideas. But I am also like Pavlov's dogs, and comments= writing more ;3


	3. Birthday

Yuuri’s eyes fell closed soon after he spoke, his hand tensing in Viktor’s grip as the ghost of a seizure passed over Yuuri. Viktor helped the doctor’s apprentice dress Yuuri in a hospital gown, ignoring the strange looks when he replaced Yuuri’s house sandals with socks. 

It took another hour until there was another commotion, the melody of another language, but nonetheless recognizable as worried and tear-stained.

“Yuuri!” Hiroko pushed into the room, followed by her eldest, and her husband. Viktor’s heart did a little flip-- he knew Yuuri’s face well, and it was strange to find the similarities in his family. His sister had the same soft curls in her hair and strong eyebrows, but Hiroko had given Yuuri his soft cheeks and bright eyes.

Mari froze, her eyes lighting onto Viktor. Her mother knelt on the floor, smoothing Yuuri’s hair back, her red eyes looking toward his chest to make sure he was breathing.

“Mom--” Mari called, repeating herself a little louder. Hiroko looked back, before following Mari’s eye of sight.

“Oh.” She immediately rose to her feet, her hand resting on her heart.

Viktor felt like an intruder. “Please, at ease. We’re here for Yuuri.” He withdrew his hand from Yuuri’s, cheeks burning under Mari’s eyes.

“Yuuri, okite kure?” Hiroko cupped her sons face in his hands. He did as he was told-- his eyes opening slowly and blinking heavily. “Doushitan, Yuuri?”

“Oboen…” Yuuri mumbled. 

Viktor’s heart squeezed as seeing the foreign tongue on his lips. “I’ll get you some water, okay?” 

“Oh no-- don’t worry--” Hiroko looked up, easily settling back into Ruthenian. “I can get it. Yuuri doesn’t remember what happened.”

“He was poisoned.” Viktor felt useless. “Something about it was his turn…”

“Ah,” Hiroko wilted, brushing Yuuri’s hair out of his eyes. “It couldn’t be helped,then.”

Viktor frowned. “Couldn’t be helped? Last time I checked, taste testing outside food isn’t one of your duties.”

“Then hire someone to do it,” Mari bit back. She paled, holding a hand over her mouth. 

“I will.” Viktor said resolutely, turning and filling a glass of water and channeling his anger into his feet as he crossed the room. “This is unacceptable.”

“There’s a reason staff takes turns, your highness. No one will willingly take pay for such a risky job.” Toshiya finally spoke, stepping in to watch after his son. 

Viktor knelt,helping Hiroko move Yuuri to sit up, supported by pillows, before he held the glass to his lips.

“I can do it myself--” Yuuri nearly growled, lifting a trembling hand. Before he could even grasp the glass, his eyes fell closed, before he choked on the water, coughing and wheezing until his stomach retched. Hiroko pulled a towel from her apron and pressed it to her sons lips, catching the charcoal-stained water before it spilled onto his gown.

“Don’t overdo it, Yuuri.” Hiroko hummed, rubbing his shoulders soothingly. “Rest. You need to get better before your birthday,you know.” She chided.

“Birthday?” Viktor brightened, trodden down by the many ways he seemed to be hurting Yuuri in one day alone.

“Yes. On the twenty-ninth.” Hiroko looked up. She paused, standing up and reaching to pat his cheek. “This isn’t your fault, your highness.”

“Please just call me Viktor,” The prince said, blinking away the strange wetness that stung his eyes.

“Okay, Vicchan.” Hiroko smiled. “Thank you for watching over him.”

~  
Yuuri stayed in the medical quarters for a few days, and Viktor’s mother disappeared into meetings to enact new security screening on the royal food supply. The poisoning became a blessing and a curse-- Yuuri was hurt, but it afforded Viktor time alone with him. The doctor rarely frequented the beds, which meant Viktor could lay in bed next to Yuuri, fingers entangled with his while he slept, and reading or talking together when he was awake. He discovered that Yuuri didn’t like to eat beets or mushrooms, but could handle tomatoes. Viktor hated tomatoes and loved beets and mushrooms-- and Yuuri.   
Luckily, he was released in time for his birthday-- a day Viktor had spent several days planning the event viciously. 

First, he had a proper outfit delivered to the Katsuki family apartment-- where Hiroko had invited him to a birthday dinner. But before that, Viktor had a whole day with Yuuri to himself.

He knocked on the last door of the closest apartment building at exactly noon-- late enough for Yuuri to get enough sleep, but early enough to not waste the day. His heart beat faster at the sound of Yuuri’s voice-- melodic and sweet, something said in his family’s native language.

The door opened, and his heart stopped. Yuuri worried his bottom lip, already self-conscious.

He was beautiful.

Viktor had ordered a pair of fitted black trousers, a cuffed silver-blue shirt and a black vest with pewter buttons embossed with the royal crest. Yuuri had slicked his hair back-- as he had during the ball, and the love and longing, compounded by the weeks they spent together washed over Viktor.

“Sorry, I can go change---” Yuuri mumbled, taking a half-step back before Viktor caught him around the waist.

“Never change,” Viktor breathed into Yuuri’s ear. His eyes widened, his cheeks burning pink.

“You blush on your nose,” Viktor smiled, touching the tip of Yuuri’s nose tenderly.

“Can we do this outside?” Yuuri gulped. He slipped on the black shoes-- Viktor had paid extra to have them broken in-- and hurriedly shut the door behind him.

“Happy birthday.” Viktor smiled shyly, pulling a small box out of his coat pocket.

“Don’t you have a coat?” Viktor blinked, watching as Yuuri reverently took the box from his palm.

“It--uh. It’s not good enough.” Yuuri carefully pulled the ribbon from its bow, sliding the lid from the top. He froze, staring at the silver filigree pocket watch, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and a single sapphire in the middle.

“I thought a ring would be too far forward, and at least a watch is useful. I have one that is similar, but with Tiger-eye, and it made me think of you.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri smiled, blinking too quickly. He turned the watch over in his palm, a soft smile curled on his lips, before Viktor took it and wove it through his vest before setting it in the breast pocket.

“Of course,moya svedza. As for the coat-- I’ll have one of my cloaks sent to the carriage. I was hoping you would accompany me to the National Botanical Garden.” 

“But-- that’s not even open yet.” Yuuri’s eyes widened, his hand resting over his heart-- and the pocketwatch.

“True, but that’s because it’s yet to be visited by the queen-- or me.” Viktor smiled, inwardly preening about how happy Yuuri was. He could tell plants were well-loved, judging by the potted plants lining the front window and front of their quarters.

“Oh,” Yuuri blushed cutely again. Viktor resisted the urge to hold his hand until they were safely inside the carriage, a black wool cape sitting on Yuuri’s shoulders.

“It’s a little over-done, isn’t it?” Viktor spoke up once he saw Yuuri’s eyes travel the interior of the coach, taking in the velvet cushions and wallpapered ceiling. 

“It’s… nice.” Yuuri said slowly, distracted by Viktor’s thigh against his, the prince dangerously close.

“I brought us tea.” Viktor pulled a ceramic thermos from a padded case, pouring a manageable amount into a gilded teacup. Yuuri held it cupped in his hands, his fingers wrapped around it protectively. His nose wrinkled at the first sip-- Viktor loved noticing little Yuuri-isms.

“Too sweet?”

“It’s…”

“Black currant jam.” Viktor supplied. Yuuri took another cautious sip. “My favorite.”

Yuuri took a bigger sip, before his soft honey eyes lifted to Viktor’s. He still held the thermos, tapping nervous patterns on its painted side.

“Here,” Yuuri said, his voice barely a whisper, lifting the tea-cup to Viktor’s lips.  
It’s like an indirect kiss, Viktor thought shamelessly-- even though they had kissed quite frequently. It somehow tasted sweeter.

“The garden staff are aware I have a companion, but no one knows it’s you.” Viktor murmured when he could tell he horses were trying to slow. Viktor was not ashamed of Yuuri’s company, but Yuuri was nonetheless adamant that their relationship remained a secret.

“Thank you,” Yuuri murmured, resting his cheek against Viktor’s shoulder. He had gradually grown used to Viktor-- and began touching him as casually as Viktor craved-- but he still stepped backward with every step forward Viktor took in public.

A guide waited for them at the golden doors to the main building-- although she turned out to be unnecessary-- Yuuri gasped nearly every name of a planet of interest before the guide did. Viktor hung back only once-- to request cuttings of any plant that his companion showed particular interest in.

“Monstera deliciosa,” Yuuri stroked the leaf of one plant that Viktor would have called a palm and left it at that. “They’re only found in tropical areas. “ He continued in awe, stroking a leaf gently.

They held hands between rows of cacti and succulents. They stole a moment in the arboretum, behind the heavy branches of a weeping willow.

Viktor, flanked by several guards, led Yuuri to the pavilion where the picnic lunch was set up. They sat next to a coal stove, surrounded by evergreen trees, while china plates were loaded with sliced meats and cheeses and wax-paper wrapped sandwiches. They shared a raspberry charlotte cake with white wine, eating off the same fork after Viktor asked Yuuri to make a wish.

“Thank you,” Yuuri murmured as Viktor scraped the last bit of cream off of the plate.

“We’re not done yet, love.” Viktor hummed. Viktor helped Yuuri to his feet, walking him through a brick pathway to the theatre building. Viktor tucked his hair into a felt cap, leaving his guards at the door.

“I’m sorry I’m selfish… but I wanted to dance with you.” Viktor smiled coyly, taking Yuuri’s cloak and hanging it up before leading him into the main ballroom. Other from high society milled around-- in long dresses or smart suits. Neither of them looked out of place-- except for the fact that Yuuri was the only non-Russian patron. 

Yuuri didn’t seem to care, his hand firm on Viktor’s back and arm. The longer they danced the softer and closer he became, until they waltzed with their hearts pressed close.

Viktor had to shake Yuuri awake when they arrived home for dinner, his kisses slapped away with a long groan. But his tiredness was soon forgotten when they stumbled into the Katsuki apartment, already warm and bright and full of people.

Phichit gasped immediately, his hand covering his mouth when Viktor took off his shoes and followed Yuuri into the kitchen. Hiroko had cooked katsudon--Yuuri’s favorite dish-- as well as a strawberry cream cake with a chocolate decoration on top. It was nowhere near as perfect as the cake Viktor had ordered or ate regularly-- but it felt like home. Even though Yuuri pointedly did not touch Viktor until he was on his fifth glass of wine, he didn’t mind. The food was good and the company even better--- Viktor would leave the house with a few choice Thai words under his belt, a full stomach and a full heart.

“Ara! He got out!” Hiroko cried out-- it was past eleven at night, and Viktor didn’t want to leave. Yuuri stirred from his spot with his head in Viktor’s lap, making soft kissy noises. Confusion turned into unadulterated love when a miniature poodle bounced toward Yuuri, the man scooping the dog up as his tail beat furiously and his tongue flicked in a million little kisses.

“I have a poodle too!” Viktor cooed, the coppery pup wriggly in Yuuri’s arms.

“We know,” Phichit smiled as Yuuri nuzzled the dog.

“What’s his name?” Viktor cooed, scratching the base of one of his floppy ears.

The room went quiet.

“Victor…” Yuuri mumbled, the dog barking in response, excited by the sound of his name. “But we call him Vicchan…”

The air grew too still, until it was broken by Viktor’s laugh. “Which Viktor is your favorite?”

Yuuri frowned, deep in thought. Viktor waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Viktor fell back laughing-- a true, full body laugh hat he hadn’t felt in-- well, years.

“Okay, okay! I know-- you can’t choose-- but it’s the dog, isn’t it?” He laughed, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Well.. he’s never made me choose.” Yuuri mumbled, his cheeks pink and his smile shy.

They played with Vicchan until gradually, the room emptied, as everyone left to go to bed. Even Vicchan started to tire, laying on his back and presenting his belly instead of chasing after toys.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” Yuuri murmured, stroking soft lines over the curly fur of his pet.

“Do you have time for a chapter?” Viktor asked-- he had missed their nightly bed-time stories.

“Always,” Yuuri flushed, grabbing a piece of bread to feed Vicchan long enough to distract him.

They crossed the grounds together-- and Yuuri joined him underneath the sheets to chase away the cold that took its hold between one home and the other. Yuuri held the book open with his thumb, his head resting against Viktor’s shoulder as he read by firelight.

Viktor spent every morning rereading whatever chapter they had read-- his mind following the sound of Yuuri’s voice, soft and even, instead of the words of the story.

But the next morning, there was no bookmark to be found-- the hardcover book laying closed on Viktor’s side. On his other side was Yuuri-- snoring softly, his arm flung over Viktor.   
The first thing he noticed that Yuuri drooled in his sleep.

The second thing Viktor noticed was that neither his mind nor his body minded Yuuri doing this.

“Good morning, my star,” Viktor stroked his soft cheek-- and nothing happened. He shifted-- piling more quilts over his lips and extricating himself from Yuuri’s grip. And he slept on. Luckily Viktor knew that Yuuri wasn’t needed until the hour before lunch-- which was why he was allowed to be such a night owl.

But there were other problems. Like how Yuuri would leave the prince’s quarters unnoticed, in broad daylight and in his clothes from the day before.


	4. In Love

“Yuuri. Star. You have to get up .” Viktor pulled his fingers through Yuuri's dark hair, smiling as his eyelids fluttered open. 

He had a momentary taste of bliss—-a soft and tender gaze, a bit of what his future could be , before Yuuri bolted upright in terror. 

“It’s only eight. “ Viktor sighed, the blankets torn away and letting the cold air spill over his skin. 

“That’s breakfast service. Everyone is—“ Yuuri hid his face in his hands. 

“ I’ll have breakfast brought up.” The suggestion only brought more dread into Yuuri's expression. Viktor rested his hands on the bend of Yuuri's elbows , hanging gentle pressure to try to love yuuri's hands from his face. “We will make sure you aren’t found out, love.”

Yuuri dropped his hands , rubbing at the red mark on his forehead left from sleeping in his glasses. Viktor kissed the tender skin , earning a shy smile from his star. 

Viktor didn’t even have time to think of a plan. Soon enough there were three sharp knocks — and Mari opened the door his Viktors chambers. 

“Is he here?” mari spoke flatly , keeping her eyes trained on the floor. 

“Uh. Yes.” Viktor blinked , watching Mari set down the tray and removing the cover. Instead of a hot breakfast there was a pile of maroon and blue fabric and a paper wrapped bun-- breakfast for her little brother.

“Thanks, Mari.” Yuuri pepped from the bed-- still tucked under the blankets with Viktor.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m never doing this again, okay?” Mari kept her eyes on the ground.

“Mari! I just-- I just read with him, I swear!”

“I didn’t ask, did I?” Mari shook her head, before she laughed. “You two are sickening, you know?”

~

Yuuri managed to dip out at the perfect moment, after changing in Viktor’s private bathroom. Viktor expected to feel at a loss, watching Yuuri job down the hall away from him, but instead he felt lighter. He floated to his meeting with his mother, where he would be briefed before they took a public audience after lunch. His mother rarely talked-- it was mainly others talking to her, and her listening-- and Viktor listening in order to be better at listening when he eventually became king.

“What’s got you in such a good mood, Vitya?” The queen asked after their first speaker finished talking and tea was served.

“Hmm?” Viktor raised his eyebrows, looking at his mother over the lip of his tea cup. She was the opposite of Hiroko-- sharp lines, cold colors and an even expression at all times. “Nothing in particular,” Viktor shrugged, closing his eyes and savoring an orange scone he had seen Yuuri mix together a few days before.

“Was the aboretum that good?” Viktor had seen his mother look at his schedule-- this wasn’t recalled from actual knowledge of what he had done. She probably had no idea Yuuri had gone, as it hadn’t been marked on the official schedule. It was fine-- except Viktor didn’t have a single memory that wasn’t about Yuuri. He would probably have forgotten that there were plants there if Yuuri hadn’t been so excited about them.

“I suppose.” Viktor stared at the scone and imagined the soft weight of Yuuri’s hand on his side.

“Well, I’m glad,” The queen patted Viktor’s hand-- just like she had done when he was eight.

  
  


~

“You’re looking healthy, mon-ami.” Chris kept an even pace with Viktor throughout the castle grounds, past the rose garden and fountains. It was a little too cold to spend long outdoors-- but it was the only safe space to talk with his friend openly.

“I’m eating more, I suppose.” Viktor smiled as he said it--Yuuri had grown comfortable enough to ask for his feedback on recipes. It turned out that Hiroko preferred cooking, Mari prep and Yuuri was master of desserts. It was another chance to spend time with Yuuri--alone, this time, and Viktor relished it. “My star is a wonderful cook. I enjoy every bite.”

“Do you really think so?” Viktor looked at Chris, before realizing the voice was coming through the hedge of ivy.

“For sure. The prince fancies someone in the kitchens!” Another voice exclaimed. Viktor stopped mid-stride, tilting his head to the side.

“Mila, you think?” Another voice gasped.

“Maybe.”

“Well, it can’t be Mari. She doesn’t look interested in anyone!” A voice laughed. “There really isn’t anyone near his age. Minami is yet sixteen!”

“Oh, please. There’s the quiet one… Yuuri, right?”

“That fat piggy? Please!” The gaggle of voices burst into girlish giggles. 

Viktor’s hands curled into fists as a flame of anger licked at his belly. 

“Ah, it’s Yuuri.” Chris hummed. “Your star works in the kitchens?”

“He’s not a piggy. He’s soft and warm-- and he cuddles in his sleep.”

“So he’s a blanket,” Chris frowned. “Viktor, you shouldn’t be lusting after your underlings.”

“He’s not an underling!” The edge of Viktor’s anger sharpened at that statement. “I didn’t even know he worked for me until after I fell in love.”

“Mmm.. Sounds dangerous.” Chris smiled, as the gaggle of voices faded as whoever was on the other side of the hedge retreated indoors. Viktor kicked at the trunk of the hedge, sending a shower of snow from the shaking branches.

“Eep-- the cannoli--” Someone squeaked adorably-- and Viktor’s stomach simultaneously sunk and swooped upward. Yuuri-- pink cheeked and bundled up-- was also covered in a dusting of snow most of it piled on top of his head.

“Star!” Viktor rushed forward to brush the snow off of their secret interloper. “Oh, I’m so sorry--- I didn’t.” He straightened the scarf wrapped around Yuuri’s neck, fiddling nervously. “I’ll have them fired at once--”

“Who?” Yuuri’s eyes followed Viktor’s hands, his cheeks still burning pink as Viktor lifted and kissed his mittened hand.

“Did you hear?” Viktor opened his eyes, watching Yuuri as he squirmed uncomfortably.

“You fell in love,” Yuuri danced from foot to foot, his breath fogging up his glasses. 

“Yes. I love you.” Viktor sighed, one worry lifted off his shoulders.

Yuuri fidgeted, standing on his toes to brush his lips against Viktor’s, before the snow under his feet gave way and he fell forward into Viktor’s chest. Viktor caught him with laugh, pressing another kiss to his rosy cheek.

“You have it bad, mon ami,” Chris smiled, but it made no difference.

Yuuri scampered backward, tripping and spilling his paper package of cannoli across the snow.

“Yuuri!” Viktor cried out, dashing forward to pull his secret lover out of the snow. “Please don’t run!” He ran his hands over Yuuri’s body, brushing the snow off his elbows and back of his too-thin coat. 

“B-but-- if people find out--” Yuuri shivered.

“He’s my best friend. I think we can trust him.” Viktor smiled, but Yuuri cast a nervous glance back toward the main building. 

“Christophe Giacometti. Pleased to meet you,” Chris stepped forward, holding out his hand. Yuuri reached out and took it, his eyes widening slightly when Chris leaned down and kissed his knuckles. His eyes flickered to Viktor, unsure and looking for reassurance. 

“Chris. He isn’t a lady--” Viktor sighed.

“Oh, I very much know that.” Chris smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Does the queen, though?”

Viktor’s mild displeasure at the loss of cannolis turned into distinct anger. “She doesn’t know most things that don’t concern her.” 

“You’re her son, mon ami,” Chris’ smile wilted as well. “I’m sure she’d like to know.”

Yuuri shrank into himself, taking half a step back from Chris and Viktor. 

“Seems like it’s my decision and not yours, mon ami,” Viktor hissed. “Why can’t you just let me be happy as I am?”

Chris opened his mouth and hesitated. “Are you happy, sneaking around like this?”

“I’m not--- Yuuri?” Viktor called after him as his boots hit the walkway as he ran away, back into the building. 


	5. Found Out

Viktor lost Yuuri among the sprawling hallways and staff. His first visit to the kitchens revealed nothing but staff washing dishes. When he visited after dinner, Yuuri didn’t meet his eyes, focusing on kneading the dough for breakfast rolls, up to his elbows in flour.

The next morning was no different-- Yuuri was absent from the staff lunch, and Viktor didn’t dare call for him when he had a blade flashing in his hand, cutting root vegetables like they were butter.

Viktor sat through meetings without paying attention-- his mind on Yuuri and clouded by the lack of sleep he had fought with after missing a night being read to by his Star.

So, Viktor didn’t deserve to be surprised when he was dressed in his sunday finest and was escorted to the dining hall two days before his birthday and found Princess Sara, dressed finely and nervously sitting on the other side of the table.

“Why are we having lunch? A treaty?” Viktor leaned into Yakov, the man who had been in charge of him since he could crawl.

“I knew you didn’t listen.” Yakov grunted. “Your mother spent an hour discussing the suitors who would visit.”

“Suitors?” Viktor paled, hanging back from sitting in his chair.

“You’re turning twenty-eight in a few days. Your mother married at twenty. You’ve had enough time to delay. Go.” Yakov pushed Viktor forward by the shoulder-- something he did often enough that Viktor didn’t even stumble.

“Good afternoon, Sara.” Viktor could barely paste a smile on, bowing to give himself a second to arrange his face into something decent. 

“Hello, Prince Viktor,” Sara smiled politely. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You as well,” Viktor sank into his chair, his stomach sinking lower when Mari stepped forward to fill their cups with freshly brewed tea. His eyes scanned the room, before lighting upon the row of staff standing straight-backed against the wall. Yuuri among them, his eyes downcast, his hand stiff as he held a rack of lamb skewered on a spit, ready to be carved directly onto diner’s plates.

“It’s nice to be around someone who isn’t angry about getting married. Michele is on my last nerve.” Sara waited as sugar and milk was stirred into her tea, and jam into Viktor’s.

“Kobe beef, your highness?” Minami’s voice shook-- it was his first royal serving, young as he was, and he was first course. The rolls Viktor had watched Yuuri knead were in woven baskets on the table, as well as fresh cut vegetable and salads to go with fine sandwhiches.

“Please,” Sara nodded politely. 

Viktor stayed silent. Guang Hong offered braised pork, and Viktor refused it as well.

“Roast lamb, your highness?” Viktor could see the faint tremble in Yuuri’s hands-- his dominant hand on the bottom, to hide the starburst scar on the back of it. But his eyes remained focused-- on the middle of the table, but nothing else betrayed him.

“No, thank you.” Sara smiled.

“Please,” Viktor asked-- not knowing if he was asking for lamb or a spare look from Yuuri.

Yuuri set the bottom of the spit onto his plate, moving the blade to carve the meat off of the rack. Light gleamed off the blade as it shook and slipped.

The guards had three swords against Yuuri’s neck before Viktor even realized the carving knife had turned toward his heart-- pointed, ten centimeters away but too close for comfort.

  
  


“Unhand him!” Viktor’s voice was too loud, the table setting clattering as he stood up. They didn’t move until Viktor was dangerously close, sweeping Yuuri into his arms. The carving knife fell to the floor, Viktor pressing into Yuuri as a sob bubbled out of him.

“Star, love, shh… It’s okay… You’d never,” Viktor whispered, cupping Yuuri’s face in his hands. He pulled back in terror, his fingers sticky with blood. His heart stopped as he searched Yuuri’s neck-- finding thankfully only a shallow cut across the side of his neck. Most likely from the quick withdrawal of the guards swords. 

Yuuri’s knees’s buckled-- the adrenaline too much, and Viktor caught him, his own knees weak with terror. 

“Viktor! What is the meaning of this?” Yakov roared, watching Viktor cradle a servant and press kisses to his forehead.

Viktor looked up-- feeling the entire room’s eyes on him. Mari was the least surprised of the crowd, her gaze more worried than anything.

“Sara-- I’m sorry,” Viktor pulled Yuuri up into his arms, the man hanging like a limp doll, his hands still frozen in the shaky grip of spit and knife. He carried Yuuri back to the medical quarters, pulling his fingers through Yuuri’s hair as he hyperventilated, wiping tears from his cheeks as they spilled endlessly over.

The doctor cleaned the wound-- shallow enough to just require a bandage-- without a word. Viktor continued his ministrations until Yuuri’s sobs quieted and ragged breathing evened out into an exhausted sleep.


	6. Audience

“The queen requests your presence Your Highness.”

“Tell her not now,” Viktor murmured, watching Yuuri’s chest rise and fall. He drooled in his sleep, and slept soundly for hours, the crease between his eyebrows ever-prescent.

“She requested it immediately--” The guard continued, sounding a little more flustered. He must be younger, new to the relationship Viktor and his mother had developed in his adolescence.

“I’m busy,” Viktor didn’t lift his eyes from Yuuri, whose fingers curled in his sleep, moving without conscious thought.

Viktor earned another five minutes of time alone with Yuuri. Time in which his eyelashes fluttered open after a soft stroke of his cheek. Yuuri didn’t say anything when he woke, only staring at Viktor in a way that made his heart ache.

Viktor kissed the crease between his eyebrows at the same time his mother broke the silence.

“Viktor Andreyevich Nikiforov,” She said with the same tone Viktor had heard most of his life--only from his mother and Lilia. Yakov never said it with such disappointment-- only exasperation. “Only you would be so stubborn.”

She came into the room with a flank of three guards, but her formality melted away the closer she stepped. Her expression warmed and she softened.  
Yuuri immediately rose-- sitting up, and going to stand up before Viktor’s hands went to his shoulders-- and pulled him closer protectively.

“I see no reason to talk about matters I can’t change,” Viktor’s throat felt thick. “I know I was stupid. I know it violates protocol, and I accept any punishment that may come from my refusal to separate from the one I love.”

The queen’s lips tightened as she sunk into a chair provided to her by one of her guards. “I’m not here to talk to you about royal rules. I am here as your mother, Vitya. A mother that is quite surprised and pleased, to be honest.”

Viktor could feel Yuuri tense underneath his hands, but he didn’t feel like he could let go just yet.

“What?” Viktor breathed.

“Yuuri has quite the penchant to save you, Vitya. I am relieved it is him, of all people it could be.”

Viktor frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. There wasn’t an attack, it was just an overreaction to a slippery knife during lunch.”

The queen laughed, a short and polite one. “I am aware, and I assume you’ll want the guards fired. But I am not talking about today. I’m talking about when Yuuri sacrificed his hand to save your brainless head.”

Viktor’s mouth dropped open, his hand slipping from Yuuri’s shoulder to cup the starburst scar covering most of the back of Yuuri’s hand. 

“You said it was a childhood accident,” He breathed. But Yuuri looked just as lost as Viktor felt.

“It was. Yuuri was only about five, and you were eight and should have known better. You played so recklessly you turned over an oil lamp. It was only thanks to Yuuri that you only have a small mark on your cheek.” The queen smiled-- and it was almost disarming.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Viktor breathed, stuck between shock and awe, and a swell of love for the man resting against his chest.

“I was five?” Yuuri whispered, his throat thick from sleep and leftover panic.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor kissed the back of his hand. Yuuri laughed.

“I didn’t even know it was you. It’s fine.” Yuuri stared at his hand in Viktor’s.

“However, you are right. There are consequences for your actions, Viktor. Particularly for wasting my time with your bullheadedness.” The queen cleared her throat. Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s hand, trying to lend some comfort.

“You will immediately apologize to the princess, and her mother and father. The damage is done, and you are lucky that Sara seems to be taking it very well. However, you will have to answer for so brazenly focusing on someone else during a meal designed to arrange your marriage.” The queen said pointedly.

“It’s not his fault--” Yuuri whispered, before clapping a hand over his mouth. Viktor’s mother smiled-- genuinely-- the most motherly expression Viktor had seen from her since his childhood.

“You will announce your engagement to Yuuri tomorrow, during the national audience, and will begin planning immediately. We will not have the crown prince fall to accusation of adultery out of wedlock and in secrecy.”


	7. Minute

“Welcome to the family, Yuuri.” The queen said, before standing and leaving the room to a stunned audience.

Viktor was stuck between relief and terror.

“You don’t have to,Yuuri.” Viktor blinked. 

He didn’t expect Yuuri to look hurt.

“I know it’s a lot-- and we’ve only known each other for a few months. I honestly was more prepared to be disowned. This is a big surprise.” Viktor rambled. His words dissolved completely when Yuuri cupped his face in his hands.

“I’m scared.” Yuuri paused, taking a long breath. Viktor forced himself to do the same, nose to nose with his Star. “But it’s okay. I--we--we can’t say no.”

“But--Yuuri-- you’d be prince consort. You’d have to do everything I do… travel with me, court.”

“That… sounds kind of exciting.” Yuuri averted his gaze, dropping his hands to fidget with them in his lap.   
He was right. It was getting exhausting, trying to meet in secret, spend time together only where it wasn’t obvious that they were. His mother’s reactions were better than Viktor would have ever expected.

But Yuuri was right to be scared. Terrified even.

It barely took a day for the word to travel through and outside the castle.

Viktor took his new found freedom to enter the kitchens and go directly to Yuuri. His stride only cut short by the revelation that he didn’t have to push past anyone. Yuuri was alone-- given a wide berth by other kitchen staff who whispered behind their hands.

The only people to brush by Yuuri were his sister and Minami, the nervous young man that always seemed to be Yuuri’s shadow.

There was no use pointing it out-- Yuuri knew. His smile when his eyes met Viktor’s was forced, though it relaxed when Viktor brushed a smear of flour off of his cheek.

“We have a fitting with Celestino in an hour, my star.” Viktor sighed. Yuuri was already in his uniform and elbows deep in a bowl of cloud-like dough. “For what you are wearing for the audience.” Viktor had already spent the morning practicing the speech that had been written for him. Yuuri wouldn’t say anything-- by custom, and by design to relieve the pressure.  
Yuuri was now above the other kitchen staff-- chosen by the prince-- but to the outside world, he was still a commoner, and would be until they were officially and publicly married.

“I know.” Yuuri punched through the dough, rolling it back until it slowly deflated. “I’m… just working out some stress.” Yuuri added under his breath. It made sense-- Yuuri’s safe space was in the kitchen, creating in the warm space he grew up in.

“Can I help?” Viktor pushed up the sleeves of his jacket-- an emerald velvet that would definitely not handle flour well.

Yuuri shook his head. “People are watching, your hi---”

“Viktor. No. Vitya.” Viktor stepped closer, putting himself between Yuuri and the rest of the kitchen.

Yuuri lost his momentary courage, eyes widening as he looked up. “What?”

“Call me Vitya. If love is too hard, just use Vitya. It’s like another title, but for people close to me.”

Yuuri immediately flushed, squeezing the dough in his hands too hard.

“I know it’s a lot, but I can’t stand being called your highness by someone who rules my heart more than I rule this country.” Viktor was back to rambling, but Yuuri smiled sweetly.

“But.. you’re my prince,” He said quietly, taking a rolling pin and spinning it in his hands. 

“Oh… that’s okay too.” Viktor felt weak in the knees, even as Yuuri dived into rolling the dough into thin sheets with fervor.

Yuuri arrived on time in the tailor’s quarters, smelling like soap and dressed in a fresh uniform. Viktor had left his meeting early, not wanting to leave Yuuri alone. However, he didn’t need to worry. Phichit, the tailor’s apprentice, threw himself at Yuuri, hugging him tightly and singing congratulations. Celestino was nonplussed, pulling out another jacket that could fit Yuuri on short notice.

“You’re welcome!” Phichit grinned, patting Yuuri’s shoulder with a familiarity that was new to Viktor. Yuuri just flushed pinker and sat next to Viktor.

“Ciao Ciao, I told you! He needs socks!” Phichit waved his hands at Yuuri’s ankles-- bare under the cuffs of his crimson pants. “I told you, his ankles are always out there.”

“Then get him shorter socks.” Viktor said the words before he realized. Phichit rushed to the back room, and Celestino nodded while Yuuri sputtered.

“No-- it’s fine, really! I’ll just wear whatever we have available!” Yuuri called out after Phichit, who came with a stack of socks in three colors-- white, black and navy. 

“First we need your measurements,” Celestino cleared his throat, pulling out a yellow tape from one of his oak desks.

“I have them already, but Ciao Ciao doesn’t believe me.” Phichit chirped. Yuuri paled.

“Did you tell him? Yuuri gulped, and Viktor’s back straightened.

“Well, yeah. You’re getting married. I’m taking credit where it’s due.” Phichit rolled his eyes, patting Yuuri’s shoulder.

“What are we telling about?” Viktor spoke up, the room going conspicuously quiet.

“Phichit…is the one who invited me to the masquerade we met at.” Yuuri said in a whisper. “He took a commission for a Duke and lied to my mother to get me the night off.”

Viktor shot to his feet, unconscious of Phichit leaning back as Viktor walked closer, leaning over Phichit to take his hands. “Thank you!” He beamed, the apprentices’ grey eyes wide and bright. 

“Wow… um… Thank you your highness,” Phichit stiffened under Viktor’s grip, the familiarity he had with Yuuri hardening into formality with the prince.

“I’ll see if we can promote you. Or give you a title. Maybe knighthood?” Viktor withdrew, running a finger along his bottom lip as he considered the options.

“It’s okay-- honestly I’m just glad I didn’t lose my job,” Phichit laughed nervously.

“Phichit is a good kid. He has a gift. Unfortunately that gift clouds his judgement sometimes.” Celestino-- who had himself worked for the crown since he was Phichit’s age-- smiled.

“We have samples of linens for Yuuri’s everyday outfits. However, her Majesty the queen requested coordinating outfits for you and Yuuri, your highness.” Celestino continued, pulling out palm-sized swatches of velvet and brocades. “We have the royal byzantium shade, a lighter plum, as well as this selection of cobalt imported from the western coast.” Celestino shuffled through each patch of luxurious fabric.

“Which shade suits my Yuuri the best?” Viktor asked right away, running his forefinger over a plush blue velvet.

“This one goes best with his skin tone!” Phichit chirped, tugging out a cobalt blue velvet. Celestino pulled a similar shade of sateen, as well as a fabric with the same blue with gold threads woven throughout it.

“Make sure to include this in his everyday wardrobe as well,” Viktor hummed. “At least three pieces.”

“This is too much.” Yuuri whispered, biting his bottom lip all Celestino pulled a bolt of molten gold silk off a rack on the wall of the workroom.  
“It’s nothing, really.” Viktor placed a hand on the small of Yuuri’s back.

“You can come in and help tonight if you want,” Phichit said, the usual mirth and mischief on his face replaced with understanding and concern. Yuuri nodded, more comforted by Phichit than Viktor’s touch.

“Your Highness Prince Viktor ,your presence is requested at Sir Katsuki’s new quarters,” The guard Otabek spoke surely, if not a little plainly.

“Quarters?” Yuuri whispered, looking up to his royally-ordered fiance. 

“Oh. My mother must have arranged you moving closer. “ Viktor did not recall anything beyond that-- although he may have been a little distracted.

They walked down the halls, before stopping just short of Viktor’s bedroom at the door of what once had been a sitting room. The ornate door was opened for them, and Yuuri froze at the threshold.

The chairs and cabinets had been cleared away, most of the room filled by a four-poster bed with a byzantine purple velvet canopy. Vicchan already lay in front of the fire, warming his tiny belly next to a fabric covered low table. The airmore looked relatively bare-- filled with Yuuri’s uniforms, some basic trousers and a threadbare wool coat that looked several decades out of fashion. 

“Star?” Viktor whispered, trying to follow his gaze into the room. It was empty so far, the queens prescence not yet granted. Vicchan stretched before trotting over to Yuuri, licking at his ankles and wagging his little tale.

Yuuri stepped slowly toward the open door of the armoire, his hands lifting to touch the black silk of the Hasetsuan garb hanging from a square rack. His fingers trailed down the dark grey folded fabric and pushed against the white puff fastened to the end of a cord. Viktor watched as Yuuri’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

Viktor felt stupid, not realizing the significance of the moment. Hasetsu’s history had been a small part of his studies-- the small island country had been leveled in the latest war. He didn’t even know why Yuuri held the fabric so reverently, or why he sniffled and blinked back the wetness of his tears.

“Your mother requested you wear father’s wedding kimono when you two are wed,” The queen said evenly, warmth in her voice even as Yuuri jolted in surprise. “I am more than happy to indulge in that request.”  
Yuuri rubbed at his face, Viktor suddenly charmed. It was getting real for Yuuri-- more so than for Viktor. Viktor had known for years that marriage was a task he would perform. He had already written down his requests-- informed by the collection of romance novels he had read in the library-- but it was never an imminent thought. Viktor was still able to realize that it was different for Yuuri. Yuuri’s shyness and uncertainty spoke volumes, no matter how much his unpracticed clusiness charmed Viktor.

“Thank you,” Yuuri sniffled. “Thank you, y-your highness.”

“No need for titles. I hope for you to call me mother one day.” The queen waved her hand dismissively.

“Mamuyla, maybe.” Viktor offered. If Yuuri burned red at the idea of Vitya, addressing the queen as his mother would make him combust.

“Yes, that as well,” The queen nodded, her blue eyes widening when Yuuri dropped to the floor, folding himself around Vicchan’s small fuzzy body. 

“Yuuri?” Viktor knelt, moving fast enough that he felt bruises bloom on his knees. Yuuri stared blankly at his hands as they methodically worked through Vicchan’s fur, his cheeks wet and nose running. 

Viktor moved to touch Yuuri’s arm-- something-- only to be pushed away by Yuuri himself. 

“Just-- give me---I need a minute--” Yuuri’s voice shook as Vicchan whined, moving to lick the tip of his human’s nose.

“I want to help,” Viktor felt helpless, Yuuri’s shoulders rising and falling with labored breaths.

“Vitya,” The queen growled from her seat as she watched Viktor move to touch his fiance’s shoulder. Viktor lifted his eyes to his mother, conflict evident in his expression.

“If you are going to succeed as a couple, you need to learn each other’s love language,” The queen continued. “Step one is listening.”

“But-- he’s.. Crying,” Viktor’s voice broke. “I can’t just ignore that!”

“Then get a tissue, or a glass of water. Did I raise you only to coddle?”  
Viktor frowned, feeling vaguely insulted. He stood up, going to the nightstand and pouring a glass of water from the bone china pitcher into a small glass. He pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his coat and handed it to Yuuri. He took the glass with shaky hands, downing the entire glass in one go. 

“Viktor?” Yuuri murmured, setting the empty glass ont he hardwood floor by his feet. Viktor knelt, careful to keep his distance under his mother’s watchful eye.

And he was rewarded, as Yuuri leaned into him, resting his damp cheeks against his nervously beating heart. 

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri whispered.

“Don’t be,” Viktor ran his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, pleasure growing in his chest at the sight of Yuuri’s lips curling into a soft smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading after a long period of no updating! Grad school is killing me I have a public twitter @cremewrites now if you're into it~


	8. Eat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written on my phone as I am abroad in japan so sorry for any wierd issues !

The few weeks between his mother’s decision and the royal announcement of engagement were busy. Viktor was kept in meeting after meeting planning for his wedding and subsequent step up to the throne. Most of it was boring - lists of names of people he needed to memorize and greet after the ceremony, procession order , and what he was assigned to wear. Nothing went quickly in government , after all. 

Phichit was busy sewing the outfit that Yuuri would appear in while standing next to Viktor as he read a prepared speech announcing his engagement. They weren’t allowed to touch in the public eye until after the announcement. 

Viktor thought that it would affect him the most , but he was proven wrong when , the day before the announcement and days spent with just a spare few minutes together , Phichit pulled him into Yuuri's quarters. 

Viktor blinked , Phichits grip too tight and pull to informal not to be shaken by. 

“Make him eat.” phichit levelled the prince with a motherly glare. Yuuri sat on his couch, a piece they had received from a famous maker in Yuuri's home country. Viktor thought it would make Yuuri feel more at home , but the slouched , wilted way he sat said otherwise. 

“I can eat,” Yuuri said weakly , his arms folded around him. He was dressed in his engagement announcement outfit, a pin cushion, scissors and tailors chalk scattered across the table. 

“I’ve had to take in your outfit every fitting we’ve had !” Phichit threw up his hands, his grey eyes ablaze. “Have you eaten at all this month ?”

“Every day, phichit,” Yuuri whined, lifting his head , his hazel eyes going wide as he noticed Viktor’s presence. 

“Are you sick ?” Viktor sank onto the couch taking Yuuri's hands in his. They trembled, withdrawing from his grasp until his cold fingertips were on Viktor’s palm. 

“No!” Yuuri took his hand away completely , wringing then in his lap, his gaze steadily focused on the floor. 

“If you’re trying to diet, I’ll have you know it’s rude not to empty your plate at the royal table.” Yuuri knew this , being kitchen staff. “ and I’ll enforce it until you’re my soft, squishy star again.”

Tears sprang to Yuuri's eyes , his mouth a thin line as he tried to hold it back. Viktor reached out wiping a tear from his round cheek. 

“How can I be yours when we barely know each other ?” Yuuri's voice was soft and strained. 

“I have my whole life to get to know everything about you…” viktor frowned. Was Yuuri getting cold feet?

“It’ll take that long with how much I get to see you.” Yuuri sniffled wetly. “If were even allowed to touch then.”

Ah. Viktor scooted closer, pressing his leg against Yuuri's. He had spent many a meeting fantasizing about Yuuri's thighs , and had spent just as much time neglecting them.

Regretfully so. 

“ Yuuri. Can we spend the night together?” Viktor rested his hand on Yuuri's knee. “Getting to know each other better on the eve of our public engagement?” Yuuri's cheeks flushed at that , his tears dried up by the sudden surprise. 

Viktor picked up the cup of corn portage off the table and scooped up a spoonful. 

“First, dinner together?” Viktor smiled and Yuuri's face darkened into a deeper red. 

“Say ‘ ah’’” viktor sang.

“Don’t be ridi— ahn!” Viktor took the opportunity to push the spoon into Yuuri's open mouth. He looked irritated but the expression was soon replaced by fond embarrassment. 

“I’ve been eating. I just haven’t been eating when I’m nervous.” Yuuri said after he swallowed. Phichit scoffed. 

“You’re nervous all the time.” Phichit stacked his pincushion and miscellanies goods into his sewing tin. 

“I’m marrying a prince.” Yuuri said in the same , matter of fact tone. 

“You’re becoming prince consort,” Viktor corrected. “You’re  _ my _ prince.” 

Yuuri shrunk back, his cheeks still burning red. “You deserve someone better ,” he said quickly taking the spoon from the bowl in Viktor’s hand and sticking it quickly in his mouth. 

Viktor’s heart stung. 

“Is that how you think of yourself ?” Something in the way Viktor said it made him feel guilty. But before he could answer — positively or negatively —- Viktor pressed his lips against his. 

Yuuri stiffened at first , his heart beating fast before he relaxed into Viktor. Yuuri tasted warm— more than just the soup, but as if his softness had become something physical. 

“I fell in love with you at the masquerade. I fell in love with you over and over again every day since then. Not Yuuri the cook, or Yuuri the dancer. Yuuri , my shy sneaky Yuuri. My star.” Viktor snaked an arm around Yuuri's waist and the soft velvet waistcoat Phichit had spent weeks on sewing and embroidering by hand. “I’ve been thinking of you every minute I’ve been away from you. Once I’m coronated I’ll be more in control , and I’ll make sure we have more time together. I promise.” Viktor pressed another kiss to his lips cupping Yuuri's face in his hands as it crinkled and a soft sob bubbled up from his throat. 

“He cries easily.” Phichit murmured, hugging his sewing tin to his chest. “Just let him.” 

Viktor’s heart aches , but he felt a little soothed by the fact that Yuuri was smiling through his tears..


	9. The Night Before

Phichit took the coat for the last fittings, leaving Viktor and Yuuri alone in his quarters, the bowl of soup empty and cradled in the prince’s palm.

“I’ll order some tea.” Viktor cleared his throat after an awkward silence.

“No! I mean.. It’s seven. That’s the only time my mom and dad have to sit and eat together. I can.. I can just go make us some.”

“Oh… okay. I mean… yes.” Viktor blinked. He grew up with a certain order, and he had never paused to think about how it was for someone not of noble blood. He had, after all, expected to be in an arranged and loveless marriage. He wouldn’t trade Yuuri for the world, but it certainly was...messy.

“You can… come with me?” Yuuri smiled softly, and Viktor melted into goo inside. He followed Yuuri to the kitchens, and true to his word, Hiroko and Toshiya were at the staff table, eating a simpler version of that night’s dinner.

“Yuuri!” Hiroko exclaimed, smiling brightly. “Okaeri!”

“Tadaima..” Yuuri mumbled shyly. “I was just… going to make some tea.. If that’s okay.”

Hiroko waved her hand in front of her face. “Of course! Your highness, please, sit.” Hiroko patted the spot at the table across from her. “We have ceylon, green, roasted green, oolong, matcha, earl grey, roobios...” 

“Mama… I was just going to make the royal blend.” Yuuri mumbled, already setting a tray with sugar cubes, a jam jar and a set of miniature spoons.

“You don’t even like to drink it,” Hiroko hummed. “Your father will take the oolong, if you’re in there already.”

Yuuri lifted up a paper-wrapped canister shyly, before sliding the cabinet door closed. “Got it.”

“Yuuri, what’s your favorite?” Viktor straightened his back. It was nice not to have to sit near the head of the table, to have someone talk to him like a person and not an untouchable.

Yuuri flushed, the pink reaching up all the way to the tips of his ears. Viktor offered his best smile. “Please? I want to know my fiance’s favorite tea.” He teased, only to earn a deeper red from Yuuri as he fumbled, dropping a canister onto the counter.

“It’s genmaicha… it’s green tea and roasted rice.” Yuuri mumbled, setting a tray with a ceramic teapot set with a strainer. “From Hasetsu.” He poured a whistling kettle of hot water over the leaves, and Viktor closed his eyes and inhaled.

“It’s like spring,” Viktor smiled dreamily. When he opened his eyes, Hiroko was smiling at him, something tender and unreadable in her gaze.

“H-here..” Yuuri served him first. Viktor clapped his hands eagerly, grabbing two sugar cubes and plopping them into his cup.

He looked up-- Yuuri and Hiroko’s look incredulous, and Toshiya’s mirthful.

“Hm?” Viktor blinked, looking down at his cup and back at Yuuri.

Yuuri smiled fondly , pushing forward the jam jar. “You sweeten everything.”

“I...oh… I’m so sorry.” Viktor blanched, staring at the dissolving cubes in his mug. “It’s a habit.”

“It’s okay. I just… I only have sugar and jam in black teas, or in the ceylon.” Yuuri prepared a cup for his mother and father before his own.

“Sit, Yuuri. ``Hiroko prompted after Yuuri finished preparing the tea. “I want to get to know my son in law.”  
Viktor felt his face flush as Yuuri settled into the chair next to him. Viktor sipped at his tea and Yuuri nibbled cookie after cookie.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” Hiroko smiled, getting up and preparing another place of sweets for Yuuri.

“Absolutely.” Viktor smiled. Yuuri was finally eating-- even if it was nervously. And getting married meant they wouldn’t have to hide or stay apart. Viktor could hold hands and walk down the hall any time he wanted to-- he’d be king. Yuuri would be his prince, and after the ceremony they would dance together for the whole night-- the same way they had met.

“We’re preparing katsudon. The queen made the menu, but she was open to having some non-traditional dishes.” Hiroko looked at her son, watching him swallow the first bite of madeline and swallow.

“Thank you, kaasan.”

“Oh, of course. Tomorrow I can call you your highness too.” Hiroko giggled. Yuuri, however, didn’t look too thrilled.

“I--its late, right? We should go soon.” Yuuri said after they finished the pot of tea.

“You have an early morning. Here,” Hiroko went to the wine pantry and retrieved a blue glass bottle, pressing it into Viktor’s hands. “To calm your nerves. Both of yours.”

~

“Should I leave?” Viktor sat on Yuuri’s bed, watching as he splashed water on his face at the nightstand, his vest and shirt traded for a long linen nightgown.

“Please don’t.” Yuuri ran his fingers along the lip of the ceramic pitcher. “I’m not tired at all.”

“Come here, then.” Viktor waited until Yuuri sat on the other side of the bed. Viktor fetched the blue bottle from the floor, pulling the cork from it and offering it to his fiance. “Soothe your nerves.”

Yuuri wrinkled his nose, opening his mouth to protest.

“You first, so you may sweeten it with your lips.” Viktor interrupted. Yuuri blushed and took the bottle. He tipped his head back before he sputtered and coughed.

“Bad?” Viktor took the bottle. Yuuri wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“No. Strong.” Yuuri breathed. Viktor took a sip, and Yuuri watched, his eyes sparkling and laughter bubbling past his lips when Viktor didn’t so much as blink.

“Very Russian of you.” Yuuri giggled.

They passed the bottle back and forth until it was empty. Yuuri finally relaxed, tucked against Viktor on top of his sheets.

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed. Even his chilly bare feet on his calves was a welcome sensation. “What do you want from tomorrow?”

Yuuri was slow to respond. “To be happy. See you.”

“And?”

“For it to be over with. I don’t like crowds.”

“Parties?”

“I’ve only been to one that I wasn’t working at.” Yuuri hummed. “It was nice.”

Viktor licked his lips. “Do you… do you know what is expected of us?”

“Minako has been coaching me. I know who to bow to. When to speak and when not to.”

“After all that,” Viktor breathed. “The night after.” He sat up to look at Yuuri in his doe-like eyes. “We’re to consummate the marriage.”

“It came up… but some things are different.” Yuuri flushed a delightful pink. “I know it’s tradition… but we didn’t talk that long about it.”

“What is different?” Viktor frowned.

“I’m not a woman,” Yuuri laughed nervously. “I can’t make an heir. “

Viktor worried his bottom lip. “I didn’t think about an heir.”

“Mari.” Yuuri sighed. “ Her highness asked her a few days ago.”

“She’s next in line?”

“She’ll … create an heir.” Yuuri’s voice grew quieter. Less warm.

“How? What? That is news to me.” Viktor said incredulously.

“I didn’t ask. You were asking about consumation.” Yuuri snapped back at Viktor.

“I… I’m sorry. I wanted.. I meant to ask what you like. I want you to feel happy.”

Yuuri rolled onto his side and held his face. “I don’t know what I like.”

“Understandable… if you've never been with a man…”

“With anyone.” Yuuri spoke between his fingers.

“Then I will strive to make it worth the wait.” Viktor reached out, smoothing yuuri’s hair behind his ear-- even it was pink.


	10. Wedding

VIktor slept soundly despite the enormity of the next day. He was to be married— married to someone he genuinely loved. He had fallen in love the night they met and deeper in love every day they spent together. And once Yuuri had a few sips of vodka in his stomach he had loosened up and they had fallen asleep to light kisses and gentle touches, Yuuri's hands resting against Viktor’s chest. 

“Good morning ! Time to get ready for — Viktor ?” Minako stopped short , her hands resting on her hips. Viktor blinked sleepily — it was barely five in the morning, a few hours earlier before Viktor, a morning person deemed to wake up. 

“ Mmm? Right…” he lifted his arm. He had fallen asleep in Yuuri's quarters the night before but wasn’t too worried considering their wedding was now public knowledge.   
But Yuuri was not in his arms— VIktor was alone in the bed , as if his fiancé had decided to be Cinderella again, or to be the little mermaid and dissolved into sea foam. 

“He was here.” Vikto sat up, any dreamy pleasure from the good nights sleep dissipating immediately. 

“Where else would he be ?” Minako huffed. She stormed toward the bath room, but the door hung open on its hinges. 

“I’ll look for him.” Viktor stood up and smoothed his hair down. Had Yuuri grown cold feet? Had he run away in the middle of the night ? Or worse, was he in danger? In the short time they had courted, Yuuri had been poisoned and had his neck cut by a guard. With their luck, Yuuri was doomed for worse.

A servant handed Viktor a quilted jacket as he hurried down the halls. He pulled it on without stopping to thank the man-- the marble floors of the palace were freezing. He was being improper-- gallivanting around in a long nightgown, but everyone was too busy preparing for the wedding to notice.

“Your highness!” Hiroko gasped when the door to the Katsuki’s quarters flung open. Hiroko combed hair wax through Mari’s hair, preparing to pull it up into the traditional Hasetsu style Hiroko’s own hair was already done in. A lacquer comb was set into her hair, and Mari had a mother-of-pearl comb set into hers. 

“Where’s Yuuri?” Viktor stopped short of stepping inside with his outdoor shoes on-- there was mud on his slippers and dew clinging to the hem of his nightgown.

“Not here, he hasn’t visited since he moved to his new room.” Hiroko blinked. “He’s not with you?”

Viktor looked like a ghost, pale hair glowing , backlit in the morning sun and face pale.   
“No. He left sometime during the night. I was asleep.”

Mari made a soft sound somewhere between disapproval and realization. “Did you go to the kitchens?”

Viktor’s mouth dropped open, and he turned without a second thought to answer. He ran back across the grounds, through the grass and down the stairs to the kitchens. They were of course busy preparing for the wedding-- the Queen had hired help from visiting delegation’s servants to relieve Hiroko and her family for the day of their son’s wedding. Spanish melted amongst Viktor’s native language, and everyone was in a jovial mood despite the constant work. They were busy enough that Viktor’s arrival went unnoticed-- that was, until he cried out and nearly made a cook drop a glass bowl.

“Yuuri!” Viktor pushed his way though the kitchen to the large wooden island. He pulled Yuuri’s hands from the dough he was elbows-deep in and kissed his knuckles. “I feared you were dead, my star.”

Yuuri’s fingers curled in Viktor’s hands-- Yuuri’s were always so much warmer than Viktor’s own, and now they were dusted in flour. He looked whole and healthy, except for the dark circle under his eyes and flour that dusted his ruddy cheeks.

“I--” Yuuri turned redder, as all eyes were on them now. “I was trying to calm my nerves.” Yuuri’s voice dropped low. Viktor let go of his hands, casting a furtive glance at the pile of baked loaves in the middle of the island. There was enough to feed the entire wedding party, foreign and local guests alike.

“Did you sleep?” Viktor pressed forward. Yuuri’s hands left ghosts of his touch on Viktor’s chest. He stepped back, giving Yuuri some space.

“I need to set the loaf in the oven before it falls--” Yuuri dodged the question and skirted Viktor too, moving the lump of dough onto a metal sheet.

“Yuuri, we don’t have time for you to be making bread for the entire Royal Army. Minako came for you to start preparing for our wedding.” His tone came out a bit more exasperated than he meant to, but Yuuri didn’t notice. He tore off the end of a loaf and held it to Viktor’s lips. He breathed in the sweetness of the cinnamon and his mouth watered. He had the mind to refuse, but he couldn’t. Not in front of the entire kitchen, but mostly because this was Yuuri.

“How long did you sleep?” Viktor spoke as he chewed. The bread was delightful, but Minako would never let him hear the end of it if they didn’t have enough time to prepare for the wedding.

“An hour or so.” Yuuri said quietly, picking at the loaf himself.

“Minako has a bath drawn for you, and now she’ll need to find some makeup to cover your hours of work.” Viktor traced the delicate bluish skin underneath Yuuri’s eyes. His honey-brown eyes lifted to Viktor’s before they filled with tears. 

“I didn’t mean to--”

“Shh.” Viktor felt the panic return. He didn’t know what to do with crying people, especially in the middle of a crowded kitchen, and most of all, his fiance on their wedding day. “Jst-- come--”

Viktor pulled Yuuri out of the kitchens. He stumbled at first, but didn’t fight. Their fingers laced together when they reached the stairs. Yuuri’s thumb traced a small pattern into Viktor’s hand, a small, insignificant action that seemed to soothe him.

“There you are!” Minako met them at the crossroads of two hallways and pulled Yuuri from Viktor’s grasp. “Now go. You’re both late.”

Viktor felt at a loss, Yuuri’s large doe-like eyes watching him before Minako pulled them into a doorway and he disappeared. Viktor’s own servants served with more decorum-- ushering him to his own bedroom. The bath was already drawn and being refilled with an iron kettle. Rose petals floated on the surface of the water, along with a few whole blooms, wilted at the edges from the heat. Viktor didn’t blink when nimble fingers unbuttoned his nightgown and pulled the jacket off his shoulders. He only considered a moment how Yuuri was dealing with this.

He sunk into the water, staring at the bottom of the tin tub until warm water was poured over his face and shampoo and fragrant oils were worked into his hair. 

In his own room, Yuuri was subject to much the same-- except his bathwater was full of citrus and bergamot, and his eyes were squeezed shut in fear as a shaving knife traced the shape of his jaw. Minako plucked stray hairs on his brows while the maids moved onto shaving off the hair on his legs and under his arms. They examined his chest before deciding to shave that too. There were too many people and too many hands on him at once, and Yuuri had no idea what to do other than to act as loose and malleable as a wired doll. It only got worse-- they dried him off and rubbed creams and oils into his skin, from his face to the sensitive insides of his thighs. He felt oddly slippery and grateful for the thin underclothes when he was handed the hadajuban to dress in. 

“Sit. Eat.” Minako handed Yuuri a loaf of bread and an apple and pushed him to a chair in front of a vanity. She poured him a cup of tea, pouring in extra sugar and milk as she knew Yuuri would only pick at the bread. If left alone,Yuuri would devour it all-- if Hirok was here, he would eat all five loaves his mother would undoubtedly hand him. But Yuuri was surrounded by people, and it was better that he pick apart his bread than pick at his nails.

“Gentle--” Viktor grimaced when a maid brushed his hair too roughly. His skin was smoothed over with make-up, his cheeks rouged and skin powdered as he ate only in a shift and drawers. The maid apologized-- her hands shook with nerves that Viktor didn’t notice, his own toes tapping on the wooden floor.

Yuuri squinted, wrinkling his nose at the cold cream Minako painted under his eyes.

“Stop that,” Minako hissed, pressing down on the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to set wrinkles into it. Keep your eyes open.”

“You’re poking at me,” Yuuri bit back, his eyes stinging as Minako swept a stiff brush through a pan of black paint and onto his eyelashes.

“You’re about to be seen by the most important people in Russia. We can’t have you looking like death warmed over.” She finished by rubbing rouge onto his cheeks, pausing to hold Yuuri’s face in her hands. She stared at him with a tender look on her face.  
“Here. I had these made for you.” Minako went past Yuuri’s simple frames to a black paper box. She handed him a new pair, the top heavy with dyed mother-of-pearl and the bottom of the lenses lined with brilliant silver. They didn’t have the fine scratches from years of use, and the lenses were clearer than a spring. Yuuri held them reverently in his hands, his lips parted in awe.

“Put them on, I need to see if you need more makeup.” Minako slapped him on the back, jolting him out of whatever private thoughts he had.

“Thank you,” Yuuri murmured. It felt too rich, too big of a gift.. But who was he kidding? In a few hours he would be royalty, and have to eat exotic fruits and drink expensive wine instead of peeling them and setting a glass on a tray.

“It’s nothing. Now hurry-- we have to be downstairs in thirty minutes.

~  
One of the guards came to fetch Viktor when the clock struck eight. Viktor smoothed down his coat-- his fingers tracing over the fine hold braid lines across his chest and the smooth embroidery on the high collar of his jacket and shirt. His kneehigh boots were as soft as butter, but the blue tied around his waist made it hard to breathe. The jacket was heavy with pearls and spun gold, but the nerves were the worst of all.

“Yuuri, look at you--” Hiroko gasped behind Viktor, and he turned to see his fiance at the foot of the stairway. Yuuri smiled shyly, surrounded by his family and as handsome as ever. His father’s montsuki was understated, mainly black and white… But to Viktor, it was a proper backdrop to Yuuri’s beauty. His hair was combed back, pieces of it already falling out of the style. His new glasses had a touch of color that matched Viktor’s own sash and set off the warm brown of his eyes. Yuuri gripped the paper fan in his hands with white knuckles as his mother fussed over him, pulling at hems and holding his face in her hands. She had to stand on her toes to reach his face, and it looked like she was near tears. Mari stood behind her mother, dressed in a blue and silver kimono with near floor-length sleeves, her mother in muted red and gold for good luck. Yuuri’s father wore something similar to Yuuri, albeit in dark blues and without the delightful white pom-pom hanging from the front. 

Viktor knew his mother was already on her way to the chapel-- as the only heir, he could never travel with her. But it still felt lonely, watching a family smile through their tears.

“Yuuri--” Viktor spoke before thinking, his mouth moving and all eyes moving to him instantly.

“Ara--” Hiroko gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Vicchan!” She crossed the room ,leaving her family behind. She stopped short, standing on her toes to touch his cheek. “So handsome.” She smiled, patting his cheek. The sensation was the most maternal thing he’d felt since he started school. Toshiya patted him firmly on his back, but the best feeling of all was Yuuri throwing himself into Viktor’s chest and hugging him tightly.

“Don’t get makeup on his jacket!” Minako fretted, but Yuuri had been careful. Nevertheless, he drew back and brushed his hands over the white velvet nervously. His hands trembled constantly. Viktor took one of Yuuri’s hands in his own and traced the starburst scar on the back of his hand. Yuuri let out a shaky breath and curled his fingers around Viktor’s.

“Ready?” Viktor whispered, watching Yuuri blink rapidly and suck in a deep breath before nodding silently. He took his fiance’s arm, leading him out the front door of the castle, five steps behind two rows of guards. He helped Yuuri into their carriage although there were no heavy skirts to contend with, and Yuuri turned and held out a hand for him in turn. A guard sat in with them, and kept Viktor from doing what he wanted most-- kiss Yuuri’s ruddy cheeks and steal away the tremor’s in his lover’s hands. Yuuri stared out the carriage window intently for the first ten minutes of the ride, his hands curled tightly in his lap. But then his gaze flickered back to Viktor, again and again before he stared unabashedly.

“Yuuri?” Viktor smiled, wishing he could sit next to him and press their thighs together for some comfort. But the guard sat between them, so not even their knees could knock against another.

Yuuri wheezed, gulping for air instead of forming a reply. Viktor’s smile dropped immediately.

“Are you okay? Were you poisoned?” He scrambled to sit on the floor, ignoring the guard and the offer of his own seat. He grabbed Yuuri’s hands as he hyperventilated, another piece of hair falling out of the careful style.

“I just want it to be you,” Yuuri hiccuped between breaths. “I’ll mess it up in front of the entire kingdom.”

Viktor’s knee ached on the hard wooden floor of the carriage, but his heart warmed. “You could say your vows backwards and the kingdom would love you.”

Yuuri only bit his lip more, unconvinced.

“Nothing would please me more than you to think of only me. To only have your eyes on me.” Viktor smiled along with Yuuri, the selfish words doing better than dismissing Yuuri’s fears.

“Don’t look away.” Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s fingers in return, a physical prayer for strength.

~  
Viktor walked with Yuuri hand in hand onto the dais, where the holy royal priest stood. He bound their hands in ceremonial silk after the first prayer. Yuuri stared only at Viktor when Vasilia and Hiroko lowered the wedding crowns onto their heads. They weighed heavily on their temples, precious gems laid into gold filigree. The pair matched, so Viktor had no idea whether he was wearing what his mother or father had on their own wedding day on the same stage. All Viktor knew that the gems did not compare to the sparkle in Yuuri’s eyes, or the warmth in his touch. Viktor didn’t look away-- his eyes and mind so trained on Yuuri’s that it was only the nervous glance of his husband that Viktor remembered to say “I do.” on his cue. Yuuri’s hands were steady for the first time when he slid Viktor’s golden ring onto his right hand, his own steadied by the presence of the ring Viktor had slid on seconds before.   
Yuuri took the goblet from the priest-- Viktor had expected to drink red wine, symbol of holy blood but instead tasted Hasetsu sake. Yuuri smiled privately, taking his own sip before passing it to Hiroko, who passed it to Toshiya and Vasilisa took the last sip. A mouthful remained, to be poured in the soil of the royal catacomb.  
When the priest pulled the silk from their hands, Viktor could not contain himself-- he pressed his lips to Yuuri’s, tasting sake and the bitter tang of bitten lips. Yuuri smiled into the kiss, lifting his hand to keep the crown on his head as he kissed his husband back.  
The entire church roared their applause. The noblemen and women filled the building, while the commoners crowded outside to watch the new prince and prince-consort climb on top of a high open-air carriage. Now Viktor was free to touch his husband, holding him tight around the waist as they toured the city. Viktor waved occasionally, smitten by the glint of the newly placed gold on his right hand. Yuuri, however, pressed his lips to his ring, watching the neverending crowds pass by. 

They arrived at the national gardens for a late lunch. Viktor felt exhausted himself, and could not imagine how Yuuri felt with far less sleep. However he felt, he did not show it.

“Yuuri!” Phichit called from the front doors of the arboretum. Yuuri had not let go of Viktor’s hand since they had joined them at the start of the ceremony. But with great reluctance he did, placing a kiss to Viktor’s cheek before joining Phichit and disappearing into a private room.

Yuuri emerged ten minutes later in an outfit closer to Viktor’s own-- but a stunning black velvet coat. with silver thread and scattered crystals evocative of the night sky. Aside from his belt and the embroidery, Yuuri was almost in all black and it gave him a mysterious and ...dare Viktor think.. A dangerously sexy vibe.

“Now we match.” Yuuri smiled nervously, hoping for approval. Viktor gaped, before he spoke his approval though a kiss. Phichit clapped from five paces behind them.

“Steel yourself.” Viktor smiled as they stood on the threshold to the main hall of the arboretum. Regardless, Yuuri still made a soft squeak when they were pelted with wheat and salt as they entered the hall. Viktor was still brushing the kernels out of Yuuri’s hair when they were handed glasses of champagne. Yuuri drank his glass a bit too quickly, but waited for Viktor before they smashed the glass to the ground.  
Viktor laughed, overjoyed at the tiny splinters the glass took-- Yuuri was nervous, but he was by no means weak. They tore into the karavey bread, dipping healthy chunks of bread into the pile of salt in the middle of the decorated loaf.   
Later, Viktor would be hard pressed to pick a favorite part of his wedding day. He enjoyed every moment of it-- even the awkward greetings. Manners would press him to say the ceremony, but Viktor enjoyed the dancing the most. It reminded him of the night he had fallen in love with Yuuri, although this time his face was not hidden and Viktor could dance with him as long as he wanted to. He owed no one else a dance and could keep Yuuri to himself.

That was until Vasilia interrupted, Hiroko in tow. Viktor reluctantly went to take his mothers hand before she shook her head curtly. “I’d like to dance with my son-in-law, thank you.”

Yuuri balked, but took the queen’s arm with perfect grace. Hiroko giggled, a little clumsier than her son, but she took guidance well as they stepped around the hall to a slow minuet. The queen seemed pleased, a rare smile on her lips when Yuuri bowed and they parted.

The sky grew dark, and the glass walls around them were lit by lanterns while they danced. Yuuri grew heavier in his arms, and their dance morphed from proper form to Yuuri resting his head on Viktor’s shoulder as they swayed.

“Dinner will be served.” Vasilia stopped by. She paused and laughed at Yuuri’s soft snores. “You can retire, or at least sit in a chair.”

“He’s still dancing.” Viktor felt his heart squeeze. Yuuri did move his own feet, even as Viktor felt him drool into his shoulder. “If we stop, he’ll wake up.”

His mother seemed to be wise, as Viktor found out that while Yuuri woke up, he did not have the energy to eat. He ate small bites of fruit and meat from Viktor’s fingers, but he fought to keep his eyes open and to sit straight in his chair. Gratefully, no one expected a grand exit, and Viktor had the carriage pulled to the back of the arboretum. He carried Yuuri to the carriage, cradling his head in his lap as he was instantly lulled to sleep by the rock of the carriage.

~

Yuuri only woke when Viktor had finished unlacing his second boot, his belt and coat already discarded on the floor. His cheeks immediately burned pink, the color going to the tips of his ears.

“I need to get ready,” Yuuri mumbled, scrambling to find purchase on the sheets and push himself up.

“I’ll bring you a cloth to wash your face.” Viktor laughed, throwing the last boot to the floor. “Don’t worry.”  
“But..” Yuuri impossibly seemed to blush darker. “We…”

Viktor turned to stripping himself. He had no qualms of messing up his own room, and he threw the coat onto an old stood and peeled his trousers off.

“....consumate…” Yuuri breathed, unable to look directly at Viktor, who froze immediately.

“My star… the only thing we will consummate will be the marriage of our minds and sleep.” Viktor tried not to laugh, instead focusing on the relief that loosened Yuuri’s limbs.

Viktor managed to change into a nightgown, while Yuuri fell asleep still in his undershirt and drawers. He crawled into their bed-- no longer just his, pressing a kiss to the crown of his husbands head.

It was their first and last moment of peace as husbands.


	11. Funeral Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags/rating has been updated, please check them before reading
> 
> happy ending promised though!!

Viktor woke up first, being the more well-rested of the two and a morning person as well. He spent the first moments of his wakefulness admiring his husband-- Yuuri curled into him, his hands resting between them on Viktor’s chest and Viktor’s pillow damp from Yuuri’s drool. It was a charming start to one of many days with Yuuri-- his husband. He said the word over and over in his mind. He had never expected this-- marrying outside of royalty, marrying a man-- his mother allowing such a thing. It’s not like it was looked down upon, but it made things harder when it came to naming an heir. Viktor’s family was royal through blood five generations back, and the King had only been named out of the family line once.  
Viktor ignored the murmuring outside his door in favor of playing with Yuuri’s hair. It was soft, outside of the styling gel, and Yuuri made a soft happy noise at the sensation.

Yuuri’s eyes opened along with the door to his room. Minako and Lilia looked tense, and behind them there were four guards, all blocking the doorway.

“Good morning. I do like it when people knock.” Viktor murmured, resting his arm across Yuuri as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“I apologize, your highness.” Lilia’s eyes were downcast, and her response to Viktor’s cheekiness uncharacteristically meek.

Viktor sat up, the change in Lilia enough to spike worry in him. “What’s going on? I didn’t expect so much company on my honeymoon.

“The Queen is dead, Vitya.” Lilia clutched her skirts. Minako looked pale.  
Yuuri pressed a warm hand to the small of Viktor’s back.  
“What?” Viktor blinked. He had heard perfectly fine, but his head decided to buzz in response to the wrench in his heart.

“Yuuri, you both need to drink this.” Minako held out a glass bottle. “The food you ate may have been poisoned.”

“Is it an antidote?” Yuuri took the bottle and peered at the dark liquid inside.

“It will help you empty your stomachs.” Minako worried her bottom lip. Yuuri moved closer to Viktor, wrapping both of his arms around him and hugging tightly. He didn’t move, but unshed tears fell from his cheeks onto the bed sheets.

Yuuri grimaced as he uncorked and drank from the bottle, counting the swallows as he shivered. It tasted awful, but it would do its job. He tipped it to Viktor’s lips, cupping his chin with his other hand. His brow furrowed, but his reaction was dim and far away. 

Minako and Lilia stayed with them, handing them tin buckets and glasses of water. Minako tore tiny pieces of ink black charcoal bread and fed them it bit by bit. Yuuri watched Viktor the entire time.

“Can I see her?”

Viktor’s voice was weak and hoarse. Lilia nodded. “ Let’s get you dressed.”  
She pulled him to his closet and ended up buttoning him up into a shirt and trousers like he was an oversized doll.

Yuuri sat on the bed, his fingers curled into the sheets.

“Get ready too. You’re king-consort now.” Minako whispered. She expected him to tense up, panic a little more, but he stood up, taking over buttoning Viktor’s vest from Lilia. He gripped the lapels of the vest and stood on his toes to kiss Viktor. 

“Come with me.” His clothing was still in his chambers, and Yuuri didn’t want to leave Viktor alone for long. 

If it was a normal day, he would tease Viktor and let him choose his outfit. But Viktor followed listlessly, sitting where Yuuri placed him at the end of his bed.

“I’m a terrible husband.” Viktor murmured as Yuuri pulled on a new pair of drawers, naked for the moment.

Yuuri froze, his head halfway into a new shift. “You’re not.”

“I’ve dragged you into this, and now you’re in danger.”

Yuuri’s fingers shook as he buttoned his shirt. “This isn’t your fault.” No one cares about a kitchen cook.

Viktor didn’t say anything, just sniffing wetly. Yuuri pulled on the rest of his clothes in a rush. It required more work than his kitchen uniform had-- shirt tails to tuck and buttons to fasten, but Yuuri managed to do it decently enough.

“It’s not your fault. I’m here.” Yuuri crawled onto the bed and Viktor pulled him into his lap. He pressed his face into the crook of Yuuri’s neck, an empty sob escaping his lips before Yuuri could figure out what to do. He dried Viktor’s face with the cuff of his sleeve, waiting until Viktor let go of him before he stood up.

Yuuri stayed at the threshold of the queen’s bedroom, letting Viktor enter by himself. It’s not that he was scared-- he could see the queen in repose, laying in bed as if asleep. It just felt too personal. She had asked him to call her mother, but in reality she was the Queen. She had been in Yuuri’s outer orbit for his entire life. He had grown up knowing of her, but not knowing her, really. And now he never would get the chance.

Lillia nudged Yuuri forward, a gentle but firm touch. He crossed the room, standing behind his husband as he knelt at his mother’s bedside and held her hand.

“The coronation will be five in the evening.” Lilia broke the silence. “ The tailors are fetching your father’s suit from the national archive. You’ll meet with Telemetov to practice your speech during breakfast.”

“That’s not enough time to travel to Moskva.” Viktor’s eyes were wide, but devoid of brightness and color.

“It is unsafe for you to travel. The coronation will happen on the front lawn.” Lilia spoke sternly-- there was no room for argument.  
Viktor was whisked away before Yuuri could even open his mouth. The chambers emptied except for the priest guarding over the late queen. Yuuri scrambled to leave, hardly noticing the guard surrounding him as he tried to find his way back to Viktor’s room. He found it empty, along with his own. The door to Phichit and Celestino’s workroom was locked and empty.  
With nowhere else to go, Yuuri descended into the kitchens. The kitchens never stopped-- death of the monarch, storm or holy war. It was busy with talk and busy hands as they rushed to change the menu to the traditional mourning meal. Knives chopped, pots clanged and the mood was the opposite of the somber silence of the halls above.

Until Yuuri was announced.

“His Highness Prince Consort Yuuri Nikiforov.” The guard called, his voice wavering a little. It was a new title, and with it the kitchen grew to a halt. Everyone turned to stare at him, and suddenly he felt silly in his fine trousers and waistcoat. The cooks eating breakfast at the staff table stood up.

“I--- uh.” Yuuri felt his throat close. “You don’t have to.” No one moved. “At...ease?” Suddenly it was too hot, even for a boy that grew up in the kitchens.

“Hungry?” Mari pushed past the foreign staff. They were there for the rest of week, as the wedding party had intended to continue on for the rest of the week.

“No..” Yuuri breathed, but he let his sister guide him to the staff table. He didn’t protest as she made him a bowl of cooked oats mixed in with a liberal amount of brown sugar and cinnamon. It cooled and congealed on its own, Yuuri drinking an entire pot of tea by himself. It helped just to be in the kitchens-- even with a guard on either side of him, and eyes watching him from every direction. He was lucky-- his mother and father were just a few meters away. Viktor was an orphan, and now had to rule as king. 

He hadn’t even indulged Viktor on the night of his wedding. He had spent the entire time watching after Yuuri, and now it’d be lucky if they ever got an hour to themselves again.

Yuuri managed two bites of oatmeal before Minako stormed in.

“You may be a fool, but at least you’re a predictable one. Did you forget you’re being crowned as well?” Minako growled.

“You said my role was to wait and look pretty.” Yuuri said. He had forgotten, but his nerves were short and words were sharp.

“Up. We need to wash your hair down. Thank god Celestino already made you a suit for visiting.” Minako pulled Yuuri by the wrist. Hiroko waved as Yuuri passed by, her brown eyes full of worry.  
~  
They went right into the ceremony without practice. Viktor had been raised to know the ceremony. Minako had the mind to remind Viktor to prompt Yuuri as they stood in the front doors of the castle. The crowds were just as numerous as their wedding day, but half of the crowd wore black. Viktor himself was dressed in all black, but for a rich purple cloak that looked older than the diamond encrusted crowns before them. Viktor’s voice was calm and even as he announced his mother’s sudden death and his intent to lead. He lifted the crown to his own head, then set the second, smaller but no less ostentatious crown upon Yuuri’s head. A small blessing, as Yuuri’s hands shook uncontrollably by his side, hidden behind the table cloth. The crown was heavy and cold, and the back of his neck and shoulders were wet, anointed by holy water.  
Yuuri looked up, trying to catch Viktor’s gaze-- but his husband stared past him, out into the endless crowd.

Yuuri reached out for his hand, but it slipped out of reach. 

~

On the third day they buried the queen. Yuuri ate four plates of funeral pancakes, sitting at the right hand of his husband, but effectively a world away. They would gather in another nine days, and then on the fortieth day before the queen would be able to move onto the afterlife. The air smelled heavily of flowers, the plants so ubiquitous that Yuuri sneezed even in his bedroom. Their bedroom.

Viktor spent his days in meetings and evenings in bed. Yuuri didn’t press, joining him in bed long after he had fallen asleep.

“Read to me?” Viktor asked that night, his head on the pillows before the sun set. Yuuri opened the book back to the first page. 

“Years before…” Yuuri started.

“Yuuri,” Viktor interrupted, his heavy voice a tone darker than his question. Yuuri looked up, suddenly anxious. “I want your company, but you sitting on the couch across the room says the opposite. Do you fear me?”

Yuuri laughed nervously. “No.”

Viktor patted Yuuri’s side of the bed, and Yuuri stood up, cradling his book to his chest as he crawled onto the huge mattress.

“I’ve been neglecting you.” Viktor moved to take the book from Yuuri, only to be met with resistance. Viktor’s eyebrows rose questioningly.

“You won’t bed me when you’re talking like you’re in the room with Velementov.” Yuuri said steadily. He pulled the book from Viktor’s grip. Viktor expected a stern lesson about being King and abusing his power, but Yuuri’s expression softened.

“I just want you to be yourself. Just for a little while. You don’t have to act around me. I fell in love with Viktor. Not the King.” Yuuri whispered, sliding down until he laid against his own pillows.

“I don’t know how to anymore, Yuuri.” Viktor swallowed. “That person died along with my mother.”


	12. Midnight

Yuuri opened the book and started reading aloud, his voice growing steader as time went on. Viktor relaxed, but he did not breach the space between them on the bed. He fell asleep before Yuuri yet again, thankful for the momentary break from reality.

That night, however, Viktor would wake up before the sun rose. His alarm would be the shattering of glass-- too loud and too close.

His eyes opened, details gradually filtering into view as his pupils dilated and took in the limited light. The lamps were all out, the fire dying embers just enough to see Yuuri by-- Yuuri, with gloved hands around his throat and a broken candelabra in his hands. Viktor watched, frozen in fear as Yuuri swung, throwing the twisted brass and glass into the face of his assailant until he crumpled. Yuuri didn’t stop-- even when new guards flooded into the room and lit it with their own lamps. Viktor sat, stunned, taking in his husband in his night-shift, his face and hands splattered with blood and a red mark around his neck. He didn’t register the long knife on top of the bedsheets, nor the knick in the headboard just above his head.

Just the wild light in Yuuri’s eyes and the red in his hands that didn’t stop.

“H--help him--” Viktor choked, realizing that even with the attacker on the floor, Yuuri’s hands were growing bloodier. The knife sitting in Viktor’s lap left a red stain, but Viktor felt no wetness or pain in any part of him.

“We’ll take you to the doctor’s room--” A guard spoke, scuttling backwards when Yuuri raised the candelabra above his head in prime position to hit him. 

“Out!” Yuuri snarled, as if feral, the blood from his injured hands spilling down to his wrists. Viktor nearly tripped trying to get out of bed as Yuuri pushed the guard backwards. He glanced back at the attacker-- only to see a familiar uniform. The same that his men were wearing.

Whoever had killed his mother wanted him dead too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I have changed this into a multi-chapter fic, but I am like Pavlov's dog-- and I wrote more when I get comments. ^^;


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